I often say I hate routine, despite having a very specific morning routine, each and every morning. It varies in the winter, but it is, essentially only different in the which side of a door I sit, drink my coffee, open my laptop, and begin my day. I hate change for the sake of change, but I also hate plans. A few days from now, I will be sleeping in a different bed for the first time in two-plus years. I will be sharing a space with someone I've only met once, although, by Monday, it will be three times. She will then take off on a vacation, leaving me alone, in a strange new place, with new neighbors, minutes from what I know and what has been my home for thirty-one months. I am ready, excited, and if truth be told, a little nervous, but not for me.
I know people get the sense I love my cat, but they don't understand how much he has meant to me. He may, if we're being truthful, be the reason I'm here, not in this singular spot, but merely existing. He was there for me when things were not alright and I know he senses that feeling coming back. Now, I'm thrusting him into a space where he may feel that way and I must, no matter what, give him the same comfort he gave me. He will, for the first time, be sharing a home with a dog. A large dog. I would call the two Yorkies who share this current space dogs, but he is three times larger than the two of them combined. They pose no threat to his safety or his sanctity other than their ear-piercing yaps. The worst part for him, and in ways for me, is he doesn't know yet. I worry about his happiness and knowing his love of the outdoors, that he may choose to stay, rather than come back to my betrayal. I would be devastated, but I would not blame him. Should this nightmare occur, I would only hope he is safe and happy. I mean that and just thinking it ruins me. I believe he will be OK where we are heading and already have worries about our next move once he has settled in. That one is almost definite and will be in less than six months, so for me, the relaxation period will be short-lived.
I do not worry about myself and these unknowns I fear, I fear for him. I fear the known, the process which must be repeated, knowing funds will be tight and I will not be able to splurge. I will hopefully have a third job by then, which also means less time with him. Maybe the next move will be, or at least feel more permanent. I've been comfortable where we've been, but happiness has eluded me. I understand that is not the case for him and I wish I convey my sincere grief over this. The unknown to him is a great fear and his comfort is of paramount importance to me. I wish he knew the process always had him coming first, that is until it couldn't. I think we'll be happy. I do hope. The known is what has kept me complacent for most of my life, comfort in the same content life I despise. We'll see. I'm excited, scared, and ready.
I know people get the sense I love my cat, but they don't understand how much he has meant to me. He may, if we're being truthful, be the reason I'm here, not in this singular spot, but merely existing. He was there for me when things were not alright and I know he senses that feeling coming back. Now, I'm thrusting him into a space where he may feel that way and I must, no matter what, give him the same comfort he gave me. He will, for the first time, be sharing a home with a dog. A large dog. I would call the two Yorkies who share this current space dogs, but he is three times larger than the two of them combined. They pose no threat to his safety or his sanctity other than their ear-piercing yaps. The worst part for him, and in ways for me, is he doesn't know yet. I worry about his happiness and knowing his love of the outdoors, that he may choose to stay, rather than come back to my betrayal. I would be devastated, but I would not blame him. Should this nightmare occur, I would only hope he is safe and happy. I mean that and just thinking it ruins me. I believe he will be OK where we are heading and already have worries about our next move once he has settled in. That one is almost definite and will be in less than six months, so for me, the relaxation period will be short-lived.
I do not worry about myself and these unknowns I fear, I fear for him. I fear the known, the process which must be repeated, knowing funds will be tight and I will not be able to splurge. I will hopefully have a third job by then, which also means less time with him. Maybe the next move will be, or at least feel more permanent. I've been comfortable where we've been, but happiness has eluded me. I understand that is not the case for him and I wish I convey my sincere grief over this. The unknown to him is a great fear and his comfort is of paramount importance to me. I wish he knew the process always had him coming first, that is until it couldn't. I think we'll be happy. I do hope. The known is what has kept me complacent for most of my life, comfort in the same content life I despise. We'll see. I'm excited, scared, and ready.
Comments
Post a Comment