July 16, 2018

Woke sad. Both my cats seem to be– as I understand these things– dying. They’re in find-a-place-to-hide-and-just-lie-there mode, Circe under the sink, Maud on the washer. Maud comes down to drink out of the faucet, but as far as I can tell, Circe hasn’t moved in 24 hours. It’s odd the grief that attends upon our animals, different from the grief we have for those of our own kind, purer, but also, in my case anyway, inconsolable. Two nights ago Circe slept with me, bumping me hard with her entire body, the way she did. Now she barely moves.

Made it to the Racquet Club and had the first really good work out since January. Some of my strength is back, though knows what is daily fluctuation and what permanent gain. Sat in the hot tub for the sake of my legs, caught myself talking out loud– to God. I suppose it was about my cats Looked for Dr. Brent. He wasn’t there. Watched this Marine-looking guy on the treadmill, envying the vitality which may be gone from my life, and never was very present. I have never not been the last to arrive. Compensation? There is no compensation. We say there is so we can get through a day.

Finished the revision of Night, Sleep.  Maud came down from her perch and Circe out from her, and napped with me, and my spirits are restored at least for this hour.