The First Morning Without Julie

This morning, I woke up in a home without Julie. 

I came downstairs to begin my morning routine, and it occurred to me how much of it revolved around her. I still have chores — make the coffee, make breakfast, feed the birds. But this was the time I fed Julie breakfast, cleaned her bowls, took out the litter box. Many days, it was only the two of us who were up this early — and Julie would be part of the reason why I was. She’d knead my check, nuzzle up against me, and then, when my eyes open, start her morning meow regiment until I relented and got out of bed. 


There are no meows today. 


In the last few weeks and months, our routine was different. I’d line up her morning medications and food. I’d try to find Julie — not always easy as she became more reclusive — and hand feed her the treats, laced with pain meds. 


This routine was tougher, longer, more grueling, and much sadder. But it was our morning routine, a thing we shared. 


This somber morning, I clean the remaining cat dishes and set them on the table. Tonight, I will bring them down to the basement. 


It’s my first morning without Julie for 14 years, and I’m not sure what to do with myself. 


I miss her already. 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Julie Reminders

Julie reminders abound.   In the downstairs bathroom trash can, I can still see an empty Squeeze-Up treat packet. It’s the last thing she ever ate.   I opened the adjacent closet, and see two cases of her prescription cat food , Royal Canin Urinary SO. I still haven’t decided what to do with all that food. Feed it to the dog? Lord knows she ate plenty of Julie’s food over the years, but she’s on her own bougie diet these days. Return it to the store? Maybe, but I probably don’t have the receipt. Toss it? That seems like quite a waste, especially considering how much this stuff cost, and what a nuisance it so often was to acquire.   And the reminders are in the absence of Julie-related things, as well. The white space on the ledge where I fed her. The vacancy in the sun room, where she once had her downstairs litter box. The voids in the various spots in the house where I usually found her, or where I’d try to find her when I couldn’t.   And, of course, the subtler di...
Read more

Fourteen Days

September 7. It’s a Tuesday. I’m home, in the middle of a long weekend. Yesterday was Labor Day, today and tomorrow are Rosh Hoshanah. So I’m home, and it’s a slow, sad five days in a house without my Julie.   She died two weeks ago. Fourteen years with her, fourteen days without her. Somehow the latter feels longer than the former.   I keep thinking that I hear her. The house emanates sounds it didn’t used to make. I keep thinking there’s a rustling sound from the next room over, or that I hear her jumping up on the table in the other room. Lord knows why, but I always get up to look to see what I’m hearing, and I’m always a little surprised when she’s not there.   And she keeps popping up in my dreams. The old Julie, that’s the one I dream about. Full of life, never far away from me.   It’s not just me, for what that’s worth. Angela said the same thing the other day — that she keeps thinking she hears Julie. Maybe it’s her spirit, still in the house, saying hello. ...
Read more