Circle of Life

I've never needed time off more than I did this past week.

 

I accomplished a lot, rested a lot, cooked a lot.

 

I cleaned George's hair from my linen curtains, from the sofa, from every nook and cranny.

 

George went MIA about three weeks ago. He never stays gone more than twenty-four hours. As time passed, I wasn't feeling particularly good about this situation. George loves me, he loves Maggie, and he waits for treats along with Maggie. He is the sweetest cat in the history of cats, a lover.

 

So I prayed, as I do every day.

 

My spirit wasn't finding rest.

 

My imagination is wild and fertile.

 

I could live knowing the circle of life had taken George, you know, wildlife and all.

 

I couldn't live with someone intentionally hurting him. But why would I even go there in the first place?

 

Just imagining all the scenarios...

 

Late yesterday I stuffed Maggie in her seat on my bike, zipped in tight, and we took off for several miles, back and forth, around our neighborhood.

 

We circled back to ride down the walkway.

 

There's a dead critter lying on the sidewalk.

 

I've no reason to believe this is George, but I want to dispose of this baby properly. At least after hitting the little thing, whomever hit it removed it from the roadway.

 

I put Maggie in the house, retrieved a trash bag, and head up to pick up remains.

 

Leaning over, there is a tell-tale sign of what and who this animal is.

 

The very tip of this baby's tail is intact and white.

 

This is my George.

 

"Oh George."

 

I'm talking to concrete and remains of what was my precious critter. I'm pouring words of love over him one last time.

 

I thank God for showing me where he was. Sometimes God gives you exactly what you ask for, though He knows my heart is broken.

 

According to my very limited forensic skills, George used the last of his nine lives around the very day he didn't return home. And he went fast.

 

I purchased rotisserie chicken today, to make chicken salad for work.

 

George loved the skin off of rotisserie chicken. And Maggie gets white meat squeezed of excess sodium and fat. They were like Jack Sprat and his wife, but in reverse.

 

That chicken brought too many memories today. All the feels.

 

The neighbors got a gray cat similar to George, just before George went missing. Today their cat followed me upstairs, singing the song of his people.

 

My heart.

 

So I write to tell you of George's demise. And to get the words and feelings out, and to move forward. A lot of y'all loved George from a distance. I wanted you to know.

 

Now I will turn on my music, loud, and drown all thoughts and feels.

 

Tomorrow I return to work. I need to return just as badly as I needed the break. I need to see and visit with our guests.

 

When I get to heaven, I've no interest in roads paved in gold, mansions. A little cabin by a river with all my animals is all I need.

 

And Jesus.

 

I need Jesus.