of mice and moths

I never realized how my old cat spent his days. I only ever saw him sleeping, eating, lounging in the sun. He was so over the grand and violent adventures of his youth. He was a late bloomer as far as hunting went. He caught his first hummingbird when the chart at the vet's office listed him as geriatric. Like the diggingest dog, Fabian made up for lost time. He once wiped out an entire family of house wrens which in itself is not so impressive. What intrigues me is that he had apparently allowed them to ripen over time. We all heard them hatch, cry for food, shift around in their nests at night. What made him decide, so many weeks later, that the time had come to exterminate them I'll never know.

It's been nearly two years now since old Fabe met the grim reaper sitting in my lap on our front deck. His passing actually played a huge part in my decision to become a princess parasite. I'd felt like I'd missed so much of his golden years. I had taken him, and my youth, for granted and I mourned them both.

I am reminded of Fabe this evening not just because he's still my screen saver and I pass his ashes in their box every time I use my front door, but because I am being hounded in slow motion by the most annoying moth. When he isn't trying to align his random flight plan with my assorted, vulnerable beverages, he is attempting to occupy my keyboard - forcing me to avoid using certain letters. I'm okay if he wants to kick back on z and x and even v, but since c sits right between them and s is right above, a prolonged visit becomes a problem.

Moths, I remember, were every where in the weeks that followed Fabe's death. Only then did I appreciate his silent contribution to the cleanliness of his household. Of course, as you've noticed, I now I have two kitties. The fact that I have a moth in my face at all, I find most egregious. My new cats are only modestly dedicated to the pursuit of moth murder. They are primarily preoccupied with bringing home rodents and small birds. Sadly, their chief goal in life seems to be to eliminate each other.

So as I sit here protecting my liquids with paper, policing my keyboard with inpatience, I sigh and marvel again at the size of the big sucking hole in my soul where my cat used to be.