I’ve had my cat(s) 9 years this month. It’s making me pretty sad today, thinking about it. I’ve been worrying that since Java passed away, his brother (literally, they were litter mates) Tag has been depressed. But after a little research, I realized that he doesn’t show the classic symptoms. I think it’s more coming from me.
Because things are just different.
There’s no loud, black kitty dominating my lap space or starting fights with his brother. Tag has never been as much of a barnacle as Java was, so not only has it disrupted Tag’s routine, but mine as well. I’m not used to periods of time without a kitty attached to my lap….or my face when in bed. I mostly worry because since Java’s death Tag hasn’t really been sleeping with me. He comes in and visits but mainly hangs out keeping watch at the back door. (For the nighttime kitty visitor and other nocturnal beasts, no doubt. El Chupacabra? Probably. Bigfeet? Definitely.)
Once again: RED FLAG, LADY. I’m still grieving and adjusting. I’m definitely putting my shit onto him.
Tag is, and will be, okay. He still cuddles me and naps with me. It’s just without the added love of the second cat. I’m fighting the reality of the loss and trying to get things back to a normal that no longer exists. I need to stop worrying that I’m “damaging” Tag or “resenting” him in a way because things aren’t the same. I need to remind myself that nine years is a long time, and it will take a long time to adjust.
Doesn’t mean I’m not going to stop worrying, though.
But, I’m grateful to have had Java as my buddy for nearly 9 years, and that Tag is still here to keep me company every day.
The following picture is blurry, but it’s one of the oldest pictures I have of the boys.