![]() ![]() I don’t think he’s showing off (what?! to a cat!), he just genuinely enjoys reading Shakespeare. ![]() I won’t go though the litany, but the bottom line is that losing his wife was the ‘most unkindest cut of all.’ He often quotes Shakespeare. He tells me he’s not ‘wallowing’ (I think that was the word) in grief, but just plain and simple missing her and railing at the losses in his life. I know from his ravings that he has neither the desire nor the will to do that. As of this writing, three years and nine months, time enough, many would say, to move on and make a new start, maybe meet someone else.īut no. He repeatedly informs me how long it’s been. Makes sure I have a full food dish every day, fresh well water every morning and night, fresh litter in the loo at least once sometimes twice a week, catnip treats at what he calls cocktail hour, where he begins his evening regimen of getting sloshed, and thenceforth begins the wailing and the yelling for the Cat Mama, who I also miss but I have enough dignity and emotional restraint not to ‘go on about it.’ I try to tell him it’s time to get over her not being here. I do not disabuse him of the notion that he thinks he’s the Cat God, because he is a good Cat Daddy, I will say that, and moreover, I would never disabuse the hand that feeds me. ![]() He’s no more the Cat God than I’m the Queen of Sheba. He deludes himself that he is the Cat God. Here I am, in a house of madness with a screaming madman. ![]()
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