I thought a long time about what title I should use for this post.
17 years ago, the worst happened.
My dad moved out. My mother wanted a divorce.
I was only 4 years old.
And I didn't understand.
I didn't talk anymore. I wanted my dad back.
My mother was feeling guilty for causing me such pain.
I didn't understand that either.
She thought about what could make me happy again. Then she had an idea.
She got me a kitty.
And I loved it. From the bottom of my heart. The kitty was my everything. It was a girl, so I called her
I started to talk again. Just with the cat, but still, it was an improvement.
I told her everything. I hugged her and cried in her soft, brown, white and black, coat.
She was the friend who was always there for me.
She used to run to the door when she saw me coming home from school.
She used to sleep in my bed, under the blanket, snuggling at me.
I loved her.
And she loved me too.
This morning I got up and prepared her breakfast, as always. I called her name, but she didn't come running.
I went to see what's up.