The Mice Will Play

I wrote here last month about caring for Laila as her kidney disease progressed.  At first, I hoped--perhaps unrealistically--that I might nurse her back to health during my winter break and that she might be with us for longer.  Then, as time went on, I hoped that I might just be able to buy her a few more weeks or months with a reasonable quality of life.  Sadly, that did not happen, either.  We had Laila put to sleep toward the end of January.  For anyone who hasn't made that sort of decision for a beloved pet, I can say that it's possible to simultaneously feel very confident that you made the right decision and feel terrible about it.

I have not yet adjusted to her being gone.  I still find myself expecting a little cat to greet me when I come home, meow loudly while I try to sleep in on the weekends, and jump up on the table to steal my food and water.  I keep thinking I need to feed her or scoop the cat litter. 

Occasionally, though, her absence feels very clear in my mind.  Yesterday, when I saw a mouse scuttle across my kitchen, it occurred to me that there would be no prolonged hunt to witness and no dead mouse body to find on the floor later.  On top of all the ways in which I feel sad, I'm also concerned that an onslaught of mice in my apartment is imminent.  You know, when the cat's away....