Hope Springs Eternal

Yesterday, when I got home, I headed straight for the fridge and my daily dose of pickle and the phone to talk to my sister, although we had only spoken 40 minutes before. With pickle in my mouth and sister on the phone, I answered a knock on the door. There stood a cowboy, full grown, looking like he was on the verge of tears. "Lori," he said, "I just ran over a cat right out here in front of the houses and I took it down the road so that none of the kids would see it". My heart sank, but I was sure that Twitch was OK. It's not like we don't have a plethora of cats running around here. Fast forward to nightfall, after sister and I went searching for the dead cat (he gave me a general description of where he threw it) and not finding it. Front door is open, just in case. Sister's cat is home, safe and sound. Twitch usually comes to the front door while I'm making dinner, plaintively meow-ing to let me know, that she TOO is hungry. I wait, and wait, and wait. And she never shows up. I am constantly going to both the front and back doors, calling her "Twitchery". To no avail.

I am fearing that it was her that was smooshed. While part of me is nonchalant about it "Hey, it wasn't my kid" the other part of me, down in the recesses of my sometimes black heart is aching something fierce. I am trying to remain hopeful that she is out on an extended mouse hunt or on the search to find herself a piece of cat ass. But somewhere, deep inside, I am resigned to the fact that it was my cat that lost her precious (precarious?) life yesterday.

I am sad. Although she irritated me beyond belief by calling her kittens in the middle of the night, keeping me awake. Although she infuriated me by hanging off the curtains quite frequently. She also made me laugh by streaking through the house at warp speed to show her delight in our arrival home from the workday. She made me feel not so alone in the wee hours when I was in despair over life and my loneliness. She would crawl up into the hollow of my waist while I slept and sleep with her chin on my shoulder so that when I opened my eyes, there her yellow ones were, lazily gazing into mine. When I would come home from work and dash to the bathroom (I used to drink iced tea CONSTANTLY out of huge styrofoam cups), she would follow and stand at the edge of the counter, with her face out, waiting for her afternoon kiss.

My heart is heavy and the lump in my throat will not go away. I should have let her stay in yesterday morning. I should have gone to get her sooner. I feel like shit. You know what they say, hope springs eternal... only my little thread is rapidly diminishing after not seeing her all night, nor at any point this morning. I hope she comes home.