It's been two weeks and two days since we lost our sweet boy, Ben.
Even now, we can't believe how empty the house is without him. For example, since it's early in the morning Ben would be sitting on my lap to "help" me write this post.
He was a kitty with routines.
Wake up when the people wake up.
Demand dry crunchy treats.
Snort and pout and fuss until given wet treats.
Sit in mom's lap and snuggle.
Help the people tie their shoes.
Take a bath.
Go find a quiet place to sleep for most of the day until the people come home.
Stand at the door when the people get home to welcome them back.
Yell like a banshee for treats.
Sit in dad's lap and snuggle.
Watch TV before going to bed for the night - sleep as close to one of the people as possible.
What a life, right?
It's a sign of healing that I was able to type this without crying over Ben (it was a bad day when I cleaned the house and removed most of Ben's fur from the furniture). Kelly and I talk about how we miss Ben, but spend more time laughing over the wonderful quirky things he did than we do sobbing that he's gone.
Cats have a deserved reputation for being persnickety. But they merely want to be loved well and part of your family. In return, they lavish affection and attention on you, their big kitty in the pride.
Knowing that Ben suffered from Feline AIDS (FIV) that he'd had since he was a baby, we gave him an extra dose of love. It made him pretty worthless (just the way we liked it!) and I think we achieved our goal of giving him a really great life.