We have her pictures on the wall and I still say good night to her. We planted a pretty pink rose with some of her ashes in her favourite part of the garden, sowed some forget-me-nots around it and howled. We howled next time we did some yard work (bulbs!) and took out the bins because those were activities she always had to supervise. I have just got over the feeling that she needs to be let in or will come stomping down the stairs to be fed or needs to be cleaned up after etc. etc. etc. We only just gave away her food stocks to our neighbour who also has an elderly cat and gave her treats/spare collar/Frontline to my Mum who has a 4 year old cat, Coco.
Tonight we had to get her things down from the attic again, decide which pieces were sacrosanct and which could be reused then went and did some serious shopping as the household expanded again.
These darlings are Sasha and Carys. At least we currently think that the little black one with white paws is called Carys. For obvious reasons, she was being called Socks in the last place. Carys means 'love' and Sasha, like Sandy, is short for Alexandra. Sasha's name is longer established so we aren't changing it now. Carys may have to forgive us!
This was not the way we were going to go and probably not so soon either. We had pretty much decided to get two cats and to get them from the shelter. Moreover I had planned on getting older cats. As it is, this pair needed to be rehomed as the little boy in their home had developed severe allergic asthma. Our neighbour told us about them and now...
Sasha, the tabby, will be 1 in December. This is her third home. When her last family took her to get spayed at 4 months old, it was discovered that she was already pregnant. On 25th July she gave birth to 4 kittens, one of whom was Carys. She is a baby herself!
They obviously do not trust us quite yet, this being the first night. Sasha is a very watchful mother, always very concerned to know precisely where Carys is and constantly mewing after her, washing her etc. Carys thinks everything is a toy, from her cat litter to my feet. She is rather less circumspect!
Both are utter darlings and, as different from Sandy as could be so far. Not that there is very much 'so far' yet. Of course, unlike Sandy, both have come from a very good home and thus take it entirely for granted that there will be food, shelter and love on tap. Once Sasha is more certain that we do not intend to eat her baby, there is every indication that she will turn into a lovey-dovey and cheeky madam. Carys will turn into even more of a whirlwind once Mummy is less worried (and then I shall die...).
I don't think we've done the 'wrong thing' and it doesn't feel like we're betraying Sandy at all. I think we can love all three.