Day 1118 One last post...maybe

 

I won’t keep writing about my sweet Peps, but I had to share the beautiful stained glass ornament Donna gave me. When I first opened it, I didn’t even realize it had Peps’ name on it—so darn cute. The little kitty watching over the water reminds me of how Peps would sit on a log at the river’s edge, watching intently for any critters daring to enter her territory.

Since she went missing, I’ve felt an outpouring of love and support. Everyone’s kind words and good vibes have helped us along. I’ve almost finished packing away all of Peps’ belongings—just in case Tim and I decide to welcome another cat into our lives. The jury’s still out on that one. Although, Facebook has started showing me every adoptable cat in every nearby shelter! Kitten or cat, one or two, or maybe none at all—we’re just not sure yet. It’ll probably take a few months to know for certain. One thing’s for sure: there’s no replacing our girl.

The stained glass ornament now hangs above my kitchen sink, and her little treasure box sits in the living room. It’s comforting to have reminders of her in the spaces she once filled. The sadness still creeps in now and then, but I’m confident that Peps lived her best life—hunting, exploring, and enjoying the freedom to roam or stay inside on her terms.

I’ve thought about whether a future cat might need to stay indoors, but that lifestyle never would have suited Peps. Still, the house feels different without her. There’s a quiet void in my routine—feeding her, letting her in and out (or out and in!) at her whim.

Okay, I’ll admit I don’t miss the surprise hairballs or being woken up in the middle of the night to open the door, but that was all part of her charm.

She was more than a pet—she was a little spirit woven into the rhythm of our home. And though she’s gone, her presence lingers in all the best ways. I won't keep writing about her, Tim tells me it's too depressing...but had to share one last post...maybe!