It's been almost nine months since we lost our sweet Gilligan.
Sometimes, in the kitchen, I see something out of the corner of my eye and my brain automatically tells my legs to move; to side-step the cat, sleeping on the rug in front of the stove. It takes my heart a split second to remind my brain that there is no sleeping kitty, only the space where that sweet ball of fur used to be.
We've all gotten better at entering the house without expecting to hear the gentle chime of the bell on Gilly's collar and, for the most part, we are able to talk about Gilly without choking up. For the most part.
But, that space, on the rug in front of the stove, it needs a warm kitty to sleep on it. We need to hear the chime of bells. We are a family that feels incomplete without the soft purr of a house cat.
You know where this is going, right?
Meet Finnigan, Finn for short.
We got him from some family friends yesterday. Today, it is pouring rain outside, the temperatures have dipped into the low fifties and I am making butternut squash soup from scratch, in my kitchen, with a kitten sleeping on the rug under the stove.
We will always miss our Gilligan but, today, our family feels a bit more whole, again and I think Gilly would approve.