Selfie with (Gone) Kitty…

She’s gone.

My roommate’s subletters left today very early. As I woke up and wandered around my apartment, it looked emptier. No glass jars in the kitchen, no banjo case in the living room, no someone else’s tooth paste in the bathroom.

But also, no Toast. The kitty is gone too. She left yesterday early evening not today. It was a sad, abrupt, quick farewell.

I thought that, as every night in these last 3 weeks, she was going to lie next to my flip-flops while I made some progress in my dissertation at midnight. I thought that at some point, as every night, she was going to bring her ball in her mouth and ask me to take a break from typing other people’s quotes and pay attention to her. I thought that after finishing an academic article and call it a day, I’d pet her as she lied down next to my bed (she knew she couldn’t jump on it.) I thought that this morning, half-awake half-asleep, I was going to see her break the rules, jumping on my bed for some seconds to wake me up (to pet her, of course.)

But no. I went to bed last night and Toast was not sleeping next to my flip-flops or by my side, asking for some love and attention. I woke up and no furry ball jumped on my bed to say, “hey, I’m leaving today, meow, meow, give me some attention.” I felt nostalgic; in few weeks that kitty and I had bonded strongly, especially after I took care of her while the subletters went on a trip to Ohio for a week. I think that by the end of her stay, she even liked me more than her owners.

But I feel fortunate. Accidentally fortunate. Without knowing that it was going to be our first and only picture together, I grabbed her and took a selfie in front of a mirror with her yesterday afternoon. As if she knew that the photo was our farewell, she started leaking and kissing my cheek. Some minutes later, someone knocked on my door. One of the subletters asked whether Toast was in my bedroom. He added that although they were leaving today, the kitty was going to spend the evening at a friend’s house to make their trip easier. It was so unexpected that I only managed to say some phrases stuttering (“Give her a lot of love; I hope I’ll see her again; I’ll miss her”) as he put Toast inside a carrier. Then they left. I’d probably not see Toast anymore.

She’s gone. It was a sad, abrupt, quick farewell…

(Goodbye, Toast! I hope you receive all the attention and love you deserve, chubby marvelous feline…)