Thank you all for your heartfelt condolances. It means a lot to me.

We’re back now from settling my Mom’s affairs. It was an emotional week staying in her house without her there and making all the tearful phone calls to friends and family. With every call it brought all the grief to the surface again. We had to wonder what Mom would have thought seeing her house filled to the brim with Rick and me; my sister and her husband; our three large dogs and my sister’s bulldog. Oh yes, and my Mom’s cat: Pookie. The cat that doesn’t like anything or anybody but my Mom. The cat hates me. Always has.

Poor kitty, what was she thinking with Mom gone?

We found her under the bed in the guest room where Rick and I would be sleeping. She was hissing and growling at us per her normal behavior. I didn’t want to get too close as she has attacked me in the past with paws and nails flailing. What to do? My Mom had always said if anything happened to her that the cat would have to be euthanised because she didn’t think she could adapt to anyone else. Even the woman who looked after the cat when Mom made her trips down here to visit us calls Pookie “special” and gives her plenty of space and doesn’t try and pet her. Lord knows I have never been brave enough to try to pet that cat.

At first we thought we were going to try and catch her and just take her to the vet. The woman who usually watched her for Mom was out of town on vacation and due back the next day. So, Pookie got a reprieve while we waited to find out if the woman would want to take her in. In the meantime she was living in our room and getting used to us and the dogs. The woman returned from vacation and said she felt the cat would not fit into her household.

By the second day she started to come out and wander around the room when Rick was in there, and then when I was there. No hissing; no growling; no spitting. By the third night she was sleeping on my pillow. I was afraid to move or reach up anywhere near her, not knowing quite what she would do. At this point, her fate was sealed—she would be coming home with us to see if we could make it work.

When we got home we put Pookie in one of the wire dog crates so she could see us going about the kitchen doing our normal routines and meet the other cats pretty much face-to-face. Here is Sam making her feel at home.

We turned her loose in our bedroom and she’s been under our bed since Friday evening. She’s not eating at the moment, but she didn’t eat for a few days when we first got to Mom’s either. Last night I woke to find her on the pillow above my head. I think I was half asleep and reached up and stroked her head and back. I still have my hand. A little later she was clawing at my side of the bed and then I saw her slip out of the room and go downstairs. So, she is starting to adjust and explore. We’ll see where this leads. Maybe between the two of us we can work out our grief together.

I think Mom would approve.