Letter to Lancelot

Dear Lancelot,

How are you, my sweet kitty? Is there a lot of tuna and catnip in Heaven? I hope so. The crematorium sent a card with your ashes. The message said good cats and dogs travel to Heaven on the Rainbow Bridge. I hope that means someday we will meet again on the other side.

The apartment isn't the same without you. It feels so sterile and cold. I still look for you when I walk in the door. I often sit down as soon as I get in, just so I can get used to the idea you're not there. Sometimes I say, "Lancelot, I love you. I'm home." Do you hear me? I no longer hear the little creaks and noises I noticed when you first went away. Maybe that means you're at peace where you are.

Every morning I visit Ruby and Purl, the mom and daughter duo at Sophie's Yarns. I feel a little less guilty now when I tell them how cute they are. Last weekend I hung out with them at the store. Purl sat on my shoulder while I shopped. Ruby, the mellower one, sat in my lap for a while. I shut my eyes and pretended it was you. But there's no kitty in the world like you.

I miss you so much, my little Lancie. I would do anything to hold you once more, to put my face against you and hear you purr. I wish I could take back all the times I scolded you or shook a coin-filled cup to keep you from misbehaving. I would do anything to have you jump on the kitchen table or groom my curly hair when I'm trying to sleep.

It seems so strange that all I have left of you now are some ashes in a box. When I held you in a blanket on the way to the vet, did you know where you were going? I hope not. But I hope you understood when I told you I loved you and that your pain was going to end.

I love you, Lancelot, and I always will. Be peaceful, my sweetheart.

Love,
Mommy