Holy Mackerel
In his last month or so, Our Beloved Cat stopped eating. We offered him everything: expensive cat food, veterinarian approved food, those stoopid lickable treat pouches. We even tried the really cheap cat foods that are the kitty equivalent of fast food. Nothing.
By dumb luck, we found he'd eat mackerel. Gross, smelly, slimey mackerel straight out of the can. The whole house would stink with it. But he'd eat it, so we were happy to put up with it.
For the first time since we lost Our Beloved Cat, The Husband cracked open a can of mackerel.
It might have smelled like stinky fish to anyone else.
But to us, it smelled like happy memories of a really good boi. 💕🐈
2 comments:
I'm glad it smells good...I still can't eat cinnamon toast. Every time I consider it, I think about the night Max jumped onto my lap and started eating it from the other side. It feels like a betrayal. But I damn well need to get over it because I freaking like that chit.
I get that. I feel guilty rinsing off dishes with yummy food residue that he would have liked to lick. He had always tried to be polite while waiting for his turn, often failing and ending up nudging my arm mid-bite. Like a jerk.
We miss him badly.
We try to approach unexpected reminders as little visits from our fur boi.
It is sometimes a struggle, tho. After the initial sadness, I have to consciously tell myself to turn it around and embrace it. Hoping it becomes a habit eventually.
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