There is nothing harder for a mother than to see her kitty feel the pain of a broken heart.
Every night over the past month I would text Jimmy Bear from work and ask what he was doing. "Watching a movie with Sophie," he would text. Or, "laying in bed with Sophie." Or, "throwing a toy for Sophie." Or, "playing xbox with Sophie." Or sometimes, "cleaning up kitty barf." On Monday morning Bear went back to work where he is expected to stay in camp for ten days. Sophie is devastated:
"Where's Jimmy, Mom?"
I give her helicopter rides like Bear does, but they're just not as good. I bounce her up and down off of the floor like the skunk from Bambi, but I just don't do it right. I put my hands on the sides of her bum and jiggle her so her fur stands up on end, but Bear does it better.
I know that if Sophie could translate her meow into words, she would ask me to post this for the man she is missing-- the man who has become the wind beneath her wings.
We miss you, Jimmy Bear.