We spent the weekend thoroughly cleaning our house. Part of the reason is that a sick cat is not really a clean cat and, as a result, does not make for a clean house. Part of the reason is that the new cat Bumper has always been scared of our old lemon kitty Marquis, so we thought by removing his scent she would be more comfortable. Part of it was to give us something to do, a project, anything to take our minds off of what had happened.
At least those were the reasons we told ourselves. I wonder if deep down this was a coping mechanism and that the real reason was that we were trying to remove all traces of him. We put away all of his things---his toys, his bed, his brush. We cleaned and put away his litter box. There is nothing left to remind us of him except for a few pictures on the wall. If he never existed, then we wouldn't be hurting, right? If we could clean our minds of him, it might scrub away the pain and help us move on.
The house does feel emptier now and more dark. But clean and perhaps antiseptic.
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