Begging to be fed in the morning when I get up

   “Not ‘til I finish cleaning up your mess, and yelling at

    me isn’t helping”

Nose inside the cabinet when I get out the pooper scooper or a new can of food

Nose inside the open refrigerator, as if to help

Pacing anxiously by the food and water platform while I put food in his bowl

That look that indicated his food needed to be “fluffed”

That look that indicated he was ready for “seconds”

Going back and forth between me and his bowl, as if to lead me to it

Curled up on the bathroom rug, waiting for me to get out of the shower or bathtub

Curled up by the door when I leave

   “I love you, Mango, see you later, be good baby, use the

   boxes”

Curled up by the door when I get home, as if he hadn’t moved the whole time I was gone

   “Oh, Mango, where’d you do it?!”

Looking at the closed bathroom door, waiting for me to open it and go in

   “Don’t’ even think about it, Mister!”

Flopping down on his side on the bathroom rug, stretching out his legs, making sure I was watching, and rubbing the side of his head back and forth on the rug

Rubbing his head and cheeks on my hand and gently biting my finger while I sat on the toilet

Begging to be fed, again

   “No, you don’t get fed ‘til I finish cleaning up all

   your mess and your stinky butt”

Going through the same feeding routine as in the morning

Looking up and seeing him come into the room

Feeling the tickle of his soft fur or fluffy tail as he’d brush past my leg

Lying on top of the newspaper, covering up exactly what I’m trying to read

Pawing at the top of the newspaper to move it out from in front of my face

Lying on top of my shoes so they wouldn’t walk off

Pawing the side of the laundry hamper (with his front-declawed paws!) after using the litter box

Having to always remember to close the bathroom door

Waiting for me to go to bed

Jumping up on the bed and curling up in front of my pillow, after I pull the covers back, to wait for me to finish getting ready for bed

Lying on my pillow above my head, purring me to sleep



I still can’t believe it, so sudden, so traumatic, so devastating

It’s still so hard to leave in the morning and come home in the evening, or any time

It’s still so hard to go into the kitchen

It’s still so hard to go to bed at night, or any time

When do the images go away?

I’d cry a million tears if I knew for sure that it would bring my beautiful “baby boy” back

My tears for Mango won’t stop

When will I stop crying?



	                     --Saturday, March 31, 2007