Tonight, Gary was unloading some groceries.
“Vegetarian lasagna?” I asked.
“It’s Mac’s favorite,” he said.
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Gary wants to leave the house as it was when Mac was here. He wants to believe Mac’s just around the corner, napping. I haven’t been allowed to pick up Mac’s dessicated food. His water is pretty close to evaporated.
There’s a sad little can of dog food in the fridge. It isn’t going anywhere. I’m not going to be the one to throw it out.
Gary’s not the only crazy one. I haven’t wanted to Scooba the floor. I like seeing the little scabby spots by the chair legs.
It’s been lonely here all week without a dog to converse with.
I suppose we’ll get some closure when they call to say the ashes are ready.
8 responses to “A Rose For Mac, by William Faulkner”
I did the opposite: I found myself doing a ritual cleansing, telling myself Well that’s the last time I’ll have to vacuum hair off the side of the chair where she leaned, that’s the last greasy brown mark on the wall I’ll clean off, the last time I’ll be mucking out the lawn.
I even crawled along the skirting boards, wiping the stray hairs off them. And in doing that, I twisted my knee, and it’s still sore, and it reminds me of her all the time. So there’s that.
I tell myself that the cat litter and the cat food in my pantry are for the next cat.
Has it been 2 years, or 3? Stupid heartbreak.
I left Taylor’s large and messy bed in place for three months. None of the other cats went near it. I felt like I couldn’t let myself breathe while I crammed it into a couple of trash bags. (I told you it was big.) I knew if I breathed, I’d start to cry.
Big Dot – I did that after Fred died. I think that might be why Gary’s been so clear that he does not want Mac cleaned out of the house.
Tami – Well, we will probably inherit the in-laws dog if they go. So Mac’s crate is going in the basement inside of Fred’s crate.
Becs – Sometimes it’s good to cry.
I’m courting a new housemate for when young Michael is deployed in June. She has two cats. Perhaps it will work out.
A friend is debating about putting her little dog down. It’s very hard. He is such a sweet little guy.
My sympathies. It seems inappropriate to grieve as much as we do for the death of our pets, but we can’t help how we feel.
*hugs*
Tami – I wish I wasn’t allergic to cats. Cats seem so low maintenance. Someone at work today suggested fostering.
Hattie – Of all the ways to go, second to dying in his sleep, Mac chose a fairly painless way out. No suffering, no lingering, no weeks of dread.
Jammies – thank you!