I Miss Her Already

Clipsey, Heather's cat, jumped on my lap first thing this morning and searched my eyes with her big blue ones.  I can never figure out what's going on in her head, but when she quickly reached out and snagged my cup sitting on the desk next to me, toppling it to the floor, I had a pretty good idea.  She's thirsty. 

And wants her back scratched.  (We share that desire, by the way - always.)

I know we need to let her go to another home.  I've known that for a while.  We've discussed it with Heather, who, as a student, is in no position to keep her, and she agrees the cat needs a different home - one with a young girl who will coddle her and share a warm bed and whisper worries in her ears late in the night.  I think, mostly, cats belong to young girls. 

And so, tonight, Clipsey is going to another home.  As a birthday present for a young woman I taught many years ago in Primary.

And I know it's crazy.  I know I shouldn't feel this way.  She is, after all, just a cat, right?

But I miss her already.  And it hurts to let her go.

I suspect she'll forget us within days.  And she'll be happy as long as someone feeds her and lets her curl up on their lap and scratches her back, and protects her from the harsh elements outside.

But I will never forget her.