I want to write about all the wonderful memories of Milo, but then I just become sad. Pets leave paw prints all over your heart, and you don’t realize they are there until your lap is cold and empty.
Losing Milo hit us both pretty hard, he was a force in our lives and the place seems so much emptier without his presence. We’ve spent the past three years so focused on Loki and his mystery disease, and Milo seemed so indestructible, that his sudden decline was shockingly painful.
When the furnace kicked in the other day for the first time this fall, I started crying because he wasn’t suddenly rushing upstairs to stuff himself behind the chair and glue himself to the wall. We’d look over the edge and he’d give us that wide eyed look that said “It’s back! The magic heat from the wall is back!”
Loki is loving and sweet where Milo was larger than life. He was always rolling around in his crinkle tube, or nipping at my Achille’s tendon, or carrying his bunny around while yodelling, or racing across the room and taking a flying leap to the cat post, or just generally getting into….everything.
Life is quieter and tidier without him.
He is missed terribly.
Milo’s memory album – https://www.flickr.com/photos/freedom-to-move/albums/72157670830431928
And now we just worry about Loki and Gizmo. Both are seniors. Gizmo gave us a scare last fall when I am rather certain that he had a mini-stroke, but he seems to have recovered fully. And Loki…well, who knows. His red cell counts go up and down, he remains anemic to some degree all the time, and his specialist continues to tweak his medications to try and find the right balance. His tendons have hyperextended with the high steroid doses, his back clicks and pops, but he purrs and gives no overt signs of any discomfort, so we forge on and love him and cherish each moment. He is on borrowed time and every day is a gift.
Pets bring joy, and with joy eventually comes heartache, and that always seems to end in heartbreak.