Dad called me last night to tell me that the cat he got me for my 10th birthday has been gone since Tuesday evening.
Listen: the last thing I want is for you to think that I'm some sort of crazy cat lady, but I really, really, really loved that cat.
She was my pillow for every single heartbreak I've ever had, and she always knew when I was sick or upset. Every time I'd come home from Lynchburg, I'd pull up the driveway, get out of my car and she'd come running towards me so excited, hardly being able to get out a significant meow.
I knew she didn't have much longer left, but I just hate the thought that she's just out there laying in the woods somewhere. After 12 years, I wish we could've at least buried her. My poor girl.
So now that I've proven how pathetic I am, I might as well embrace it and introduce you to the rebound I adopted today:
I named him Jack after C.S. Lewis, but I fancy that I'll be calling him "Mr. Lewis" a lot as well.
He can't come home with us until they neuter him, so we'll be picking him up on Thursday. I'll probably visit him every day until then.
Like I said. Pathetic.