Ethel and Lucy play in the garden.

Mornings are my favorite time of day.  I love to get up and open my bedroom door to see my two hungry kitties waiting for me.  We go downstairs together- being careful not to get entangled in each others’ legs and paws.  Lucy and Ethel wait patiently while I make my coffee and as soon as I flip the switch the meowing begins.  I walk the familiar walk to the cupboard and get the can of food out.  I wash their bowls and divide the chow, placing it on the floor with fresh water, all the while chatting with them about what  good and patient girls they are.  I find this little ritual so comforting in the morning.  Kitties and coffee.  A new day and a new beginning.

This morning I am missing my Lucy.  Ethel is on a hunger strike.  Something is amiss in the house.  Last Thursday night my beautiful Lucy succumbed to the whims of a big black dog walking by.  She was much too ladylike and a bit too arthritic to outsmart or outrun him.  I miss her most in the mornings when she is not there waiting for me on the other side of my bedroom door.

It’s been a week and my heart is still broken.  With all the turmoil in our world- people losing homes and loved ones to natural disasters, to cancer and other diseases, war, joblessness. etc. -  I feel a little guilty indulging myself in this sadness over an animal.  Regardless, I am missing her today.