A year without Olivia

It's been a year since my youngest cat, Olivia, died. I can say that there is no life after cats. I will never get over my guilt. For not realizing that Olivia was about to die.

That moment when the vet called and told me that Olivia has to be put down, and I couldn't continue talking on the phone because I was crying.

 

 

Yesterday I noticed that the shorts I wore while washing the cat toilets are not where my other shorts are. They were still where I kept them when I was still cleaning toilets. The last time was the week of Olivia's death. That's when I cried for Tabitha, I remember how the tears mixed with the wash water. I didn't know it would be Olivia who would die first.

And I can't get over the fact that both Olivia and Tabitha died on the name days of the characters of my first novel (who both die in the story). Luckily, Kali didn't do that. 

 

 

 

My fear of death has subsided because I don't want to live without cats, because life without them is pointless and because I think they're waiting for me out there somewhere. Of course, I don't really believe that, but still.

Last night I cried so much for Olivia that I had got arrhythmia. Would it be appropriate to die on the same day?

I would like to finish writing some of my stories before I die, though. I'd be damned if I died before then.

I had already decided that I would play through the game Stray again on the anniversary of Olivia's death, but then the game Cat and Ghostly Road was on sale. In it, you play as a white cat.

 

 

 

I still open the door for Olivia after the shower. Luckily, I still remember Olivia's unique meow.

 

 

I still open the window in the evenings
even though I know you won't come and shout anymore...