tavie.com

It was really hitting me yesterday that my cats are much closer to the ends of their lives than kittenhood. They're 15. They're getting old. I do not want to think about this but I could not stop because Lily was sick yesterday.

Turns out they'd switched her food to something that had milk in it, and luckily they figured it out and switched it back. Also part of the problem was she's a very clingy cat and I'm never home anymore, and Kirsten, her one true love, was away in Seattle for a week, and the poor thing missed her a lot.

I know if one of them were to die anytime soon I'd feel even more horrible than I normally would, because I spend so much time away. Whenever I come home now Lily starts her big-eyed crying-begging-pleading-pawing-desperately-at-your-arm-for-attention routine. It's so cute and so heartbreaking. "Please don't leave me again!" she whimpers. "No one loves me!"

(Rosie, my diva, rarely acts so, even though she's always loved me best. I think she knows that my coming home means she has to give up her comfy spot in the center of my bed. So she'll give me one of those, "Oh, were you gone?" looks when I come in, but always waits until it looks like I'm going to stay awhile before seeking the Tavie-love.)

Anyhow, I was thinking these morbid things and the inside of my head last night turned into that episode of NewsRadio with Mike the Rat. I was thinking about Trillian and Raisin and Chelsea and Gremlin and Wog and Ginger and Lucky. It was freakin' Rainbow Bridge in my skull. No wonder I couldn't fall asleep until so late.

Tonight I'll go home and cuddle Riley, but tomorrow night I think I'll go other-home and see my girls. And my turtle who doesn't love me.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:36 PM | shower me with attention