This Morning

I am sitting in the driver’s seat of the white Toyota while it rains heavily. I arrived 15 minutes before opening time at Michael’s where I am to buy an overpriced item that someone at my job thinks is necessary but which I think is not. I haven’t said this to him. I am just a gopher in this situation. Mousie did not come home last night. Fred left the kitchen door open for him all night. I feel that I did not give Mousie enough affection the last few months. There were times when I did, but I noticed myself withdrawing, though always very happy to see him, always relieved when he ate, but not very demonstratively affectionate. Not like Fred who really seemed to spend time with him. /there is a hole in our home though with Mousie gone. Maybe he will come back. Maybe this is a false alarm, but we have been waiting – or at least I have – for, or anticipating his departure for a year or two as he got thinner and thinner. If we don’t’ see him again, it will be like he walked out into the field and into another dimension, walked through the membrane from one life to another. I would rather it went this way. I would like all my animals to go like this. I wrote Fred a note this morning and left it as usual on the counter. I like to leave him a little good-bye in the morning. He often leaves me one at night. Usually our notes are little exuberations of love, with sometimes something practical tacked on. With Mousie’s absence so present I couldn’t leave my usual big heart drawing. I tried to write something about how I felt, the sadness. I noticed how in writing it I worried I’d say the wrong thing, make a mistake. It is hard not to hide.