Cougar has left home.
You see, it’s been two years, I guess, since there was peace in the house. It’s a constant thing, with some nights the fighting starting up every ten minutes or so. In the middle of the night, often, Couugar would begin howling, plaintively, loudly, as if he too wanted things back the way they were. My nerves, on a whole, are frazzled.
Cougar was often the instigator. Fenix was often the cuddler, who ran to me to snuggle while Cougar glared from his perch atop the scratching pole, which he’d staked out as his own.
I won’t go into the details, except to say that Cougar was first in my heart. I love them both, for and despite their differences, but Cougar was first. You have to understand this. Because three days ago, he decided to leave home and live outdoors.
He snuck out, through a window in the garage, which he’s done before, but this time is different. This time, I don’t expect him to ever come back in.
It’s gotten that bad, and in some ways, I think that he thinks I deserted him…that I chose Fenix over him because of the dynamics of their territorial dispute (Cougar chose the scratching pole, Fenix the couch with me). Cats, like humans, are very emotional creatures. When Cougar returns it won’t be the same. Can’t. Ever. I sense this as surely as the end of a close friendship.
And that makes me very, very sad.
That said, the last couple of days have been very peaceful in the house. Fenix is at ease again and purring so loud I need earplugs…in fact, he jumped in my lap a second ago and he’s nuzzling and purring as I write this in a pleasant, relaxed, almost meditative way that I’d almost forgotten.
Back in the day, they used to take turns doing this…one would jump down and the other would take his place.
What I wouldn’t do to have that again.