Just in case you didn’t notice, I haven’t blogged for a long time. A lot and nothing have happened.
People know that I thrive in secrecy. The personal life that you know about me is just the tip of the iceberg. However, I want to share with you this part of my life because it is about my “person,” Timon.
Timon has been in the animal clinic for a week and a day. She had a miscarriage (this was weeks after her four-day old kitten died from Timon’s previous pregnancy), and she almost died because of massive bleeding. I am grateful to V for rushing Timon to the clinic the moment V saw her unconscious on the living room floor. Now, Timon is less fragile yet still not out of the woods yet. Every night, I fear that I would receive a call from her doctor telling me that she’s gone ahead of me. The first night that she was confined, I talked to her like I would a dear friend confined in a hospital. And then I whispered to Timon something I never told anyone, something that was part plea and part prayer.
The first night she was confined, the doctor discussed her condition with me, and I just couldn’t stop myself from crying. Her friend and constant fuck mate, Wonton, seems sad and depressed since Timon’s confinement. He’s stopped eating with gusto, and he’s been sluggish. Because of this, I’ve allowed him to sleep in my bed. He is my snuggle buddy, and he thrives in cuddles. Both of us have this deep ache in our hearts, and our purring has not been of contentment but something carved out of desperate fear.