That was the last bit of my 48 hours of magical thinking. I wanted to give it my best shot. I drove 45 minutes to an out-of-way meeting in Old Saybrook, Connecticut. Yeah, where Katherine Hepburn spent the last phase of her life.
When I came home and called out, "Mommy is here, Jason," my companion for almost two decades didn't creep out on his little cat feet. That was that. I hustled him next to me in "our" bed. Until I drifted off around 4 A.M. I petted him.
This morning not a bit of Fancy Feast was touched. He hid behind the bookcase. Without an appointment I went to the vet. I told them, not asked them, what needed to be done. Within 10 minutes, the Vet whispered, "Jason is gone." Opening the door to the apartment we shared for the past seven years has been brutal. I have no idea how to get on the other side of the grief. There are no answers so it's dumb to dig for them. Jason deserves king-size mourning. That's my hunch.