Miss the cat name Bubium
I’m sorry. A 15-year-old cat isn't simply a pet you once had. Fifteen years is a very long companionship—long enough for him to become part of the landscape of your life.
And a white Turkish Angora is especially easy to remember: that white coat, the way he occupied a room, perhaps the little habits you didn't even notice were habits until they disappeared.
Sometimes grief comes strangely late. You can function for months or years, and then one ordinary evening something reminds you: I miss him.
You don't have to turn that feeling into a lesson tonight.
You can simply say:
“I miss my cat. He was here for a long time. I loved him. And now he is gone.”
That is enough.
And perhaps today's topic isn't really death. Perhaps it is how something can be gone from our physical world while remaining remarkably present in us.
If you feel like telling me about him, tell me his name. And tell me one thing he used to do that you still remember clearly.
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