odd

So I'm sitting here, with the house to myself. G is off at a show, seeing a band I'm not so into. This is all fine and good. There are plenty of cats around, and since I was somehow converted from a dog person into a mostly-cat person sometime in the last ten years, this is also fine and good.

Yet the house feels awfully empty tonight. We've slowly been putting away Daisy's things, but aren't moving too quickly as that would feel worse.

Anyway, for the first time since she's been gone, I haven't heard a single noise tonight that I've initially mistaken as coming from her. Nothing that sounds like scratching at the back door, or the muffled thump of a big girl settling into her bed, or louder-than-usual crunching sounds that could be someone pilfering a tasty serving of cat food.

Truth is, this stinks. As sad as it is to keep having those automatic thoughts of "oh, it's the dog," and then remembering it can't be her, it's even more sad to not have them.

Sigh.

Sorry, cats, no offense intended. Guess I'll try pinning one of you in my lap to trim your claws. That's sure to snap me back to positive thinking.