A Letter to Heaven

Dear Scout,

It’s been almost a year since you’ve been gone, and I still miss you. Most days are good days, but sometimes, when a bird lands on the front porch or when a ray of sun sneaks past the curtains and warms a patch of carpet, you curl into my thoughts and I start thinking about all the things I miss about you.

How you could meow and purr at the same time.

Kitty kisses on my nose.

How you wanted to lay in front of the screen door for hours when the first cool front blew through every fall.

How you would come running whenever I opened a can of cat food.

You laying on my chest, purring until you feel asleep.

The big sigh you’d give right before you fell asleep.

The list goes on and on, and it always ends with how quiet and empty the house felt the day we let you go. Eventually, we settled into a new routine, just like we did after Katy went to the Rainbow Bridge. We seemed to have a lot of time with nothing to fill it. No more times we had to be home, to give you meds, or coax you to eat, or turn on the water in the bathroom so you could have a drink. 

Max and PJ adjusted, too. And things seemed to be ok. 

Then, about a month ago, I had a dream. I was in a giant room. There was a wall of windows that rays of sun beamed through. There were chairs with soft, fluffy cushions and plants with big leaves to hide under. A cat’s dream room. I found you and Winnie there, sunning yourselves. You both let me scratch your chins, and you started that loud, lawn-mower like purr you had. You seemed happy. Maybe this was the Rainbow Bridge. I hope so.

A few weeks later, a friend offered me a kitten. It didn’t work out, but we started thinking it might be time to open our home again. I started looking at shelter kitties on line, and found some kittens we would like to meet; hoping one of them would like us, too. We found two.

I was nervous bringing one kitty home, and when we decided spur of the moment to bring home a second kitty, I admit I was pretty scared. Were they healthy? How would PJ and Max react? Would the kitties want to be with us, or want to just hang out with each other?

We named them Liz and Celesto.

The first evening they were home, I sat with them in Max’s empty kennel. They romped and wrestled and chased each other and largely ignored me. But they didn’t complain when I picked them up and seemed to like it when I scratched their chins.

The second evening they were home, I sat with them again in Max’s empty kennel. They romped and wrestled and chased each other and climbed and jumped on me and curled up against me a few times.

I think they were starting to like me. I like them, too, but now I was thinking about you and all those things I miss even more.

Yesterday, when I was lying on the sofa, they climbed up to hang out with me. Liz crawled up on my chest and started purring a lawn-mower like purr. Celesto curled up on my lap and held my pinky finger in her paw. Then Liz sat up and kissed my nose.

I thought of you and smiled.

I will always miss you.

It never hurts any less.

It just hurts a little less often now.