A few things I don’t want to forget:
We cremated our 18-year-old cat, Bok Choy, who died last Thursday. I need to devote a blog post to her sometime. We weren’t sure how Atticus would take the news; he knew from watching Mike give Bok Choy her IV treatment that she was sick. Mike told Atticus to say good-bye to Bok Choy because she might not come back from the vet. Then we told her Bok Choy died and wasn’t coming home.
Mike wanted to cremate her; I wanted to bury her but he had a good point about not wanting the bones disturbed when we eventually move away. So, I came home Tuesday and saw a small decorative metal tin – black with flowers – on the kitchen island. Not sure what it was, I tried to pry it open. Thank God I noticed the label underneath — Bok Choy’s ashes!
We didn’t tell Atticus that the cat was getting cremated, or even what cremation was. Yesterday morning I was holding him, and he noticed the tin and said, “Who is that?” I said, “What?” He repeated himself insistently: “Who is that?” He knows the difference between who and what. It was really strange, like he had a sixth sense.
Last night, after I said, “I love you,” he said, “I love you,” back, which he rarely says. Then he followed it up with, “Are you happy?” He didn’t ask in a concerned way, just asked. It was sweet.
Tonight, for the first time, I threatened to send him to bed without dinner. He was having an enormous tantrum and being entirely selfish and unreasonable. Of course I didn’t want him to starve but I had to hold the line. Big fight over a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He is getting more temperamental and demanding. Oh, boy.
