Alfie

I want to feel better. I keep telling myself I should feel better but it's not yet working. A week on and the absence of Alfie still feels raw. As much as his presence in the world was loud and very physical with his in-your-face ways, the sudden withdrawal of all that energy is just so noticeable. I am sitting in the office as I type this and for some time I have been expecting him to trot into the room and jump on the desk, parading in front of the screen until I give in and attend to him by pushing the keyboard out of the way, laying him down and stroking him while he purrs and purrs. When I wiped the counter tops in the kitchen, Alfie would try to catch the cloth or sponge I was using as if it was a game I had invented with him. And his love of the laser pointer was unbounded: he never tired of running after that red dot and even two days before he left us, he was still chasing that dot.

He was our little panther, our sweet little boy cat and I miss him terribly. I hope there are laser pointers over the Rainbow Bridge.