When my mom first came to live with us, I don’t think Murphy, Mr. Meow or Tabby knew what to make of it all. They knew who Grandma Dorothy was, but she lived somewhere else. That meant she’d come and stay a little while and then leave.
But this time she came with two big suitcases, unpacked, and stayed. She left for a few days when the ambulance came after her first mini-stroke. But then she came back again…though not entirely herself.
Still, Grandma Dorothy was like another stray I’d brought home. Murph and the cats accepted her, loved her, made her part of the family.
Then she was gone again. Another ambulance. More being tucked behind closed doors while the paramedics assisted her. And then she just didn’t ever come back.
At first they wondered where she went –and where I went when I left every day. Someplace to see Grandma Dorothy they knew.
“Be good while I’m gone. I have to go see Grandma Dorothy today,” I’d say as I was leaving. Then I’d give them updates when I returned home. One day I took the big bear –but a couple of weeks later I brought him back.
Then there were tears. Somehow they knew that meant their Grandma Dorothy was never coming back to see them again. Then they knew sadness –and comforted me in mine.
Life is slowly starting to return to what it was pre-Grandma Dorothy’s arrival, but it will never quite be the same.
Tabby doesn’t guard Grandma Dorothy’s room like she once did. There’s no Grandma Dorothy in it to protect anymore. Instead, she’ll lie at the end of hall looking at it wistfully, as if she’s missing those days when it was her duty to keep trespassers at bay.
Mr. Meow, who was my mom’s first favorite, has taken to sleeping under the bed in her room most nights. Something he only used to do during thunderstorms. I’m not sure what that means, but he seems kind of sad. Like he wants to be in there to feel closer to her –or perhaps mourn her in his own way.
And poor Murph. He’s happy to be back to a walking schedule, but he still seems a bit blue. As if he knows part of our pack isn’t quite whole anymore, that it’s making me very sad, and he doesn’t know what to do to help me feel better.
Yep, we all seem to be missing Grandma Dorothy. She sure had a way of wiggling into our hearts.