It's been a week since Bin died. One thing I have acutely noticed is how much verbal interaction there was between us. When I got up and I encountered him on the top of the couch or in my chair in the study, he would always raise his head and greet me. Mrow. Yeah buddy, how's it going? Tomi might say something. Molls, being from a quiet breed usually is silent. Both, however, if I approach them immediately begin purring.
One of Bin's enduring habits was "helping" make the bed or sort the laundry. C loved burying him under the covers or placing a sock or underwear on his neck. He never minded as he was a very tolerant cat. I would be standing by the bed folding and suddenly I would hear this single "Mrowu!!" and out of the corner of my eye see Bin flying through the air and landing on the bed. I always thought this was one part courtesy and another announcing his arrival.
We miss him terribly, there is a big hole in our family. As it is true with loss, we are slowly recounting how he was and event of our time together.
The vet's office provide us with paw prints they took from him. I put one together with his last photo taken on his death day. We have in the library, a nice piece by Dianne Wolter given to us as a wedding gift. Evidently, I intuited that this seemed to be a logical place to hang the photo and didn't really think about it until I put it up. Only then did the synergy of the two pieces become apparent. C calls the Wolter cat Bin's symbolic spiritual guardian representing the restful time where creatures go between death and rebirth.
Thank you for this tribute to our sweet boy.
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