Huh.

Last night was emotionally rough.

Ke thinks snowpants are snuggly.

Next week is both my friend Mille's birthday and also the anniversary of when we lost Keiki.  The same day, in fact.  And I came across this article about 8 reasons why your cat licks you, which reminded me of Ke, who sometimes couldn't hold her licker...usually when she couldn't wake Hubby for him to give her love.  She had the raspiest little tongue.  And, of all things, she'd usually lick my eyebrows.  Crazy cat.

Innyhoo...

So I popped over to this article, which didn't tell me much more than I already knew, but it was cute.  And I saw cute links to other articles.  They were cute.

And my heart ached from missing Po.  It's not that I don't miss Keiki, because I do.  I miss hearing her talk to herself at night.  I miss hearing her stomp on any floor that's not carpeted.  I miss hearing her little kitten-feet runrunrunrunrunrunrunrun around the house.  I miss her crazy love of ice cream.

But Ke was Hubby's kitty.  Po was mine.  And she was my first cat.  She was the Queen, the gentle giantess, the one who first grimly tolerated and then eventually loved my children.  She let them dress her up, swaddle her in blankets, cover her in beads, shove tiaras on her head, endured effusive hugs from small people, and even let Medium SIT on her without a complaint.  Ever, with the exception of some mild growling.

She wasn't an overly affectionate booger like The Weasel.  When she wanted attention, she would come demand it.  When she was done, she got up and left.  She picked up a certain dignity like a cloak around the time she turned a year old, and kept it until the day she died...even when her dignity was covered in blankets and beads and towels and duckies and tiaras.  Sweetness in other people was a sign of weakness, and so she didn't put up with that nonsense.  She could dish it out as good as she could take it, and if you were nice to her for no apparent reason, she was instantly suspicious and would walk all over you (figuratively and literally).

Yep, Po took up a whole chair.

She was one of a kind.

And even though it's been over a year since we lost her, the Popoki-sized hole in my heart and my home remains.  By the time I was done and told myself to close the browser window before I scared the kids, my grief had surged like a tidal wave.

I went upstairs to use the master bath so I could close doors and have a good cry.  I ended up crashing on my bed, more tears coming when I thought I didn't have any more.

Mika came and curled up next to me, purring quietly.  He snuggled into the curve of my arm.  And he stayed for a good twenty minutes.

It was another ten minutes beyond that, beyond Small Fry coming up and saying Daddy was wondering where I went, before I felt like I could come downstairs.

When I finally succumbed to the exhaustion of my day and my grief purge, I went up to bed.

Large Fry woke up while I was still in the bathroom and stumbled down the hall.

"Mommy?  I want my cast," she mumbled.

"Your what?"  Nobody wants a cast.  I'd just gotten mine off that morning.  Those things are tools of de Debbil.  (I had a love/hate relationship with mine.)

"My cat.  My Popoki cat.  That you got for me off the computer."

Ahhhhh. "I think it's down in the living room.  I'll help you look."

By the time I was able to go help her, she'd already found her kitty and was going back to bed.  I smiled at her as she closed her bedroom door.  And I thought how interesting it was that she had been thinking about Po and wanted her stuffed kitty that she'd named after our real one.

Twenty minutes later, I'm back in the bathroom and Large's door opens.

"Mommy?"

"What's the matter, honey?  Why are you still up?"

"Can you tuck me in?"

I followed her into her room.  She already had her radio on, and there wasn't much else I saw that I could do.  "What do you need?"

"A hug and a kiss."

That's something I can always do.