Me and Orion.
Orion is a cat. In the grand scheme of things, he’s not a big deal – but he’s been an inconstant companion for much of the past 20 years, and a constant one for the last five. And just as his sister, Cassie, and Kristen had grown really, really close – Orion and I had always sort of gravitated towards one another.
It was my omelet – I know this. It’s all he really wanted. He’d join me on the bed sometimes, and he constantly craved the crevice betwixt me and Kristen – but his presence truly became known over breakfast. He wanted to lick plates. Lick dishes. Lick forks. One time he crossed the line and actually got into my omelet while I was finishing the coffee – but most of the time he waited to misbehave till I was back in the room.
He was a terribly bad cat. But he was the best bad cat. And despite stepping on me, and putting his claws in inconvenient places, and his begging and throwing up and knocking over the water dishes and shoving over stacks of paper – and the fact that he was generally underfoot, especially in the kitchen, and when loading in. And loading out. And when moving about in general…
Despite all that I adored him. No other cat has fallen asleep on me. No other cat danced with us for quite as long. And no other cat responded to his name and looked up at me quite so quizzically – wondering why I was bugging him. He had velvety ears and velvety paws and his nose was the nose to which all other cats’ noses should aspire. He Loved boxes, crevices, sunbeams, cool drafts, whatever reeds grow in our front yard and omelets.
And I’m pretty sure he Loved his humans too.
We put Orion to sleep tonight. And I’m as sad as I’ve been in a long, long, long time.
Good night beestie.
ilyaimy.
