She Once Was Lost but Now is Found

Dear John,

 

The lost sheep - in the form of a cat - had been found. It's been an odd day. Let me go at this chronologically.

 

I took Maggie in this morning for spaying. The event was welcomed by all: Maggie herself, who is sick of the hormonal swings, and the rest of us who have listened to enough trilling and yowling to last us for a while. The poor thing was starting into heat again. She started trilling at 9:00 last night, and nobody got much sleep.

 

I was scheduled to work 10-2 today, and ended up staying until 3:30 to cover for a doctor's appointment. They could have used me until 5:00, but I had to pick Maggie up around 4:15. So I stayed as long as I could and went straight to the vet's office. She did fine and slept all the way home. I got her out of the carrier and intended to keep her close to me because Abby was hissing at the hospital-smell, but Maggie had other ideas. She jumped out of my lap and ran for the litter box - something I applaud - then I couldn't find her. Because her scent is different after being at the vet, Jethro couldn't find her either.

 

By 8:00 I was concerned about her. I got the flashlight and headed off to search every square inch of the house until I found her. I located the cat in the workroom, curled up asleep on Michael's comforter. (I have it because I'm trying to work out a way to mend it without destroying it. Anyway.) I woke her up, checked her out, and brought her to the food dish. She ate with great enthusiasm, climbed up onto the back of your recliner, and promptly fell back asleep. But she came running when I got into bed, climbed up into it like nothing had happened, and fell back asleep cuddled up to my legs.

 

Jethro and Hunter are standing guard over her while Abby lurks at a distance and hisses. None of this fazes Maggie in the slightest. She's a wee bit stoned and wobbly, but not much. She should sleep well tonight. And, without the trilling and yowling, the rest of us should as well.

 

So that's your family report for the night. It's another night that you probably aren't sorry to miss. But we miss you. I'm still struggling with missing you so much, but I've come to realize that grief is made up of remissions and exacerbations, so I expect it to be that way at times. Know that your little family loves and misses you, and that all is well with us.

 

Love you, adore you, worship the ground you walk on,

Joan.