Last night, I received a text from someone I had a very serious relationship with. It was the first contact from this person in two years. She texted me to tell me that her cat, the cat we had when we were together for three years, was missing. Probably eaten by coyotes she said.  Now that is terrible news. The cats name was Sir Arthur, he was probably the worst behaved animal to have survived his own folly.

I loved the cat because it was a living thing. I wasn’t particularly fond of the cat nor have I really missed the cat in the last two years.  In some ways I’m completely incapable of sentimentality. Obsession with doing original things and/or doing them better has left a lock on my emotional side in regards to things like that.

What I am able to perceive is how the cats disappearance is affecting someone that I once loved. I know she’s obliterated. Someone I used to love. I hope she’s okay. I hope she isn’t still hurt, I hope she still feels like I’m here for her. I hope she doesn’t see my new life as a rejection of the old.

I hope she knows that I’m no where closer to finding the answer. I hope she’s okay that age has brought me a little more contentment, a little more happiness while maintaining the same crippling doubt.

I hope she went to California and she found love. I hope her tears have a shoulder to fall on. I hope… I just hope.