Going to the cupboard for cereal lacks the joy it once held.  Your absence wounds me.  How I loved to find you waiting patiently at my feet knowing I’d go for a bowl of cereal even before I knew.  You always were aware when Captain Crunch was on the menu (or any other cereal for that matter).  It was your gift: the knowing.  It went well beyond cereal, but that you demonstrated best.

Even now, especially when I look at Loki and Grendel who spent their youth under your feline tutelage and rule, I am reminded of your absence, of a dear friend — no, friend is wrong; that’s not the right word at all.  I am reminded of a dear family member who is gone.

Any time one of The Kids sits or lies on the arms of the loveseat, I can not help but think of you.  That was your place when not in my lap.  It was from that location on so many pieces of furniture that you held court, sitting upon your throne and casting your judgment, not to mention your contempt, on all who trespassed in your domain.  I remember seeing you on that perch and laughing when you would immediately bathe when someone other than me touched you, a reminder of their insolence in thinking themselves worthy of violating your personal space and immaculate grooming.

When I bring Wylie home with me and watch Loki stalk and hunt him ad infinitum, a part of me cherishes that skill in him as something you mastered and passed down to the next generation.  No dog challenged you on your own turf, and any dog who did always left with a bloody snout and wounded ego.  Loki learned well from you this skill and happily carries on the tradition of feline superiority.

Yes, there are many things that remind me of you.  But there are also things that have changed without you here.

I do my best to give The Kids treats on a regular basis, yet I’m confident it does not happen as frequently as it would if you were still around.  No one reminded me of treat time as often as you did.  I admit Kazon does his best to match your skill and timing in this regard; it’s not the same or as often though.

It seems from time to time that the arm of the couch is a bit too empty.  Again, Loki has done his best to fulfill this habit in your absence.  The others also rest there occasionally.  He even kicks them from this roost just as you would have done — and did on many occasions.

Toilet paper and paper towels still provide endless entertainment when left where paws might find them.  I never understood what made these simple everyday items so much fun, yet I still laugh when I think of coming home to find you’d spread an entire roll of bathroom tissue all over the house.  I now own a paper shredder, but the electric one still doesn’t do as fine a job as you did and now The Kids do.

I suppose in your absence there remains a lot of you that never seems to fade away.  It’s oddly fitting, you know, to have so many reminders in everyday things, to see you in The Kids, to miss you in the most common activities we once shared.  And who says pets are any less our children…