I may never know what I knew, or when I knew it.
In truth, I did have death on my mind. I don’t think this was a true morbidity of thought. It was more the presence of a passing made more immanent through a current presentation of fragility.
The phrase “death is in the air” does bear examination.
My cat, Dinah, and I had been companions for over 17 years. Maybe I knew that was about to end? Maybe, on some level, that was clear but there was no direct access to my conscious mind?
So, my memories filled with the loss of an old love to an aggressive cancer as a signal of what was about to happen. I wish my mind had not conflated the two. I want to remember them both individually, in their own right.
Dinah was not a very vocal cat, but this place is now much quieter without her. It’s amazing how loudly focus can be requested with just a simple look. And, it’s amazing how much force of character was brought to a space by a cat who weighed less than 6 pounds in the end. She had a density of presence — if that makes sense.
As winter turns to mud, and I walk among last year’s leaves, for a time I will walk with Dinah, until she hears the sound of a vole rousing from hibernation and sets off for the hunt.