Darkness, Cold Coffee, No Wi-Fi, and the Great Flashlight Treasure Hunt

This is a little different.
I'm writing on Monday morning, although it's Sunday’s post and will be dated Sunday.

Grief is a natural process that comes in waves

One week ago today our Skunk walked across that Rainbow Bridge.
One week of opening the front door and no grey cat sitting on the back of the recliner with a paw up yelling at us.
One week cooking and no little grey cat standing on his hind legs with his front paws braced against the stove or the dishwasher helping us cook.
One week of heartbreak, one week of getting used to only having five cats.
One week of sorrow.

Finding My Way Back Online

I was up just before 6 this morning.
My inner spidey senses were telling me that I was all alone in bed.
Sure enough, Cowboy hadn't come in from work yet.

Every vote counts!

Another Thursday has come and gone.
The days are getting a little easier for me.
I think Cowboy misses his Squeaky as much as Badger and I do.

The Heavy Weight of "Life Goes On"

I don't think I can even pull one rabbit out of the hat today.

It feels like the days are long and endless and not a lot is happening.

I can tell the summer is winding down, and I always get seasonal depression when the seasons change.

Writing for Myself for a While

Badger had a very rough night, which meant I had a rough night.
She said she had a night terror.
I'm guessing she had one heck of a nightmare.

Taking the Blog Private for a While

My mind is a blank today.
Everywhere I turn, there's a reminder of Skunk.
We raised him from a barely weaned kitten.
Six years is a long time to spend with a cat.
A long time, yet not long enough.

“You were never just a cat — you were family.”

I'm still in shock from losing Skunk.
I still expect to hear him squeaking at me.
He was a very vocal cat.

An unexpectedly large part of grief is fury. — C. S. Lewis

This isn't a post I wanted to write.

I've cried so much my eyes are swollen, and I have a busting headache.

Badger and I really thought we'd take Skunk to the emergency veterinarian, they'd fix him, and we'd bring him back home.

Until We Meet Again At The Rainbow Bridge