Gone But Never Forgotten

It's such a strange and trying thing, life. You can't control it, you can't predict the course it will take, and you can't ever go back and change it. Life just happens, and all we can do is live.

On Thursday, my baby cat died. He fell off the 6th story balcony in the early morning, and I found his little body lying in the gutter, covered with a branch. At the sight of him, quiet and lifeless when he was so playful and pouncy just hours before, my heart broke into pieces and there is a gaping hole in my life and my soul that will not be filled soon.

I keep thinking he'll appear around the corner any minute, or jump up onto my bed as I write this and curl up between my knees or on my lap. I still sleep on my back to accommodate him, and find myself looking to all his favorite spots in the hope that he'll be there: in the kitchen sitting next to the onions, on his blanket in my room, on the bath mat while I'm showering, or on the balcony, ironically his favorite spot of all.

He was such a perfect cat, so full of personality and character. He was my kittenface and my baby, and I loved him.