ode to Beans

morning pages 194

this morning i cried and asked if i could please come over for breakfast sometimes because i am so badly going to miss Beans. our routines are coming to a close, and it breaks my heart to think about him never sleeping between my legs or by my side again.

i’m sorry for the days i said that he wasn’t my cat. he was mine the day i was yours. and now that i’m no longer yours, i must part ways with him. it has meant so much to bond with him and develop an unspoken knowing between us. he knows exactly what to do to wake me up so he can be fed at 3am. i know that after he eats in the morning, once i’m up for the day, he’ll want to be close to me— on the couch making biscuits on a blanket or on the back of my dining room chair while i’m eating or on the kitchen floor watching me make my breakfast. and if i’m too busy with breakfast or doing the dishes, he’ll jump onto the counter, then to the top of the refrigerator, and he’ll squeeze his way into the cabinet above it, settling into his “apartment” for a nap.

i’ll miss his soft tummy and bad breath and his little vampire teeth and the way he bites my ankles when i’m taking too long to feed him and his demand that i sit on the floor and say hi to him after a long day at work.

i’m going to miss my first cat.

i love you, Beans. so much.