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I hear a plaintive meow from the corner, under the furniture, in particular under mom's old Space Invaders game. I figure it's Ash, but I am surprised because I thought the cats were outside. I lose track sometimes. There is enough ambiguity in the situation for me to tease and torment myself with the idea that I might yet see my calico Coco crawling out from under the furniture.
It's been half a year now since I lost Coco, but I still miss her with a passion. I still clutch my chest as though to ease the hurtful heart pangs. It's not like she ever really bonded with me (except perhaps at the very end when I sat in vigil over her slow dying), but I guess our sense of beauty and cuteness can override such calculations. No one ever said that love is rational.
It's been half a year now since I lost Coco, but I still miss her with a passion. I still clutch my chest as though to ease the hurtful heart pangs. It's not like she ever really bonded with me (except perhaps at the very end when I sat in vigil over her slow dying), but I guess our sense of beauty and cuteness can override such calculations. No one ever said that love is rational.
