What is love? Is it emotion? Is it amorphous? Is it something tangible, with a physical presence? Or perhaps it's merely a biochemical/mechanical reaction in the human brain with no sentimental significance at all.
Deep philosophical questions -- but isn't that what blogging is all about, for me anyway...? These are the questions that keep me up at night, that sometimes enthrall me, sometimes torment me...
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At the end of January, just a few months ago, I had to say goodbye my companion, my housemate, my fur baby, my sweet angel... my Dexter.
We had lived together for almost five years, and Dexter was the first pet I had owned in decades. Having grown up with cats I always thought of myself as a "cat person." Then I married a man who was allergic to cats but had owned dogs when he was younger. (This was not our only difference -- my late husband was a diehard Yankees' fan and I'm a lifelong supporter of the New York Mets.) But I digress...
We had always talked about getting a dog someday when we both retired (though I'm primarily a cat person, I love dogs too). We even discussed breeds and names... a yellow Lab named Molly, perhaps...? Then I lost my husband to cancer in 2005 -- he was only 56 and I was now a widow at 44. Fast forward fifteen years and I'm living in an apartment in Manhattan, retiring from a long career in finance (a little earlier than I'd planned) and then there was this pandemic going on...
A few months later, after settling into my new life as a retiree -- or should I say as a "free woman" -- I decided it was now time for a housemate, a furry companion. I briefly "toyed" with the idea of getting a miniature dog, an apartment-ready, little fur baby that I could carry with me everywhere. But no, I knew I was a cat person at heart, and besides that, even tiny dogs were too much work.
So Dexter entered my heart and my home. He was a rescue kitty, about three years old when I adopted him, according to the vet's estimate. I'd lived with cats before, as a child, teenager and young adult, when I still lived with my father. Doris, an affectionate Siamese, was "my" cat, and I loved her very much. But venturing out on my own, in my early twenties, I decided to leave Doris with my dad, and since I didn't move far away, I could visit her anytime I wanted. Then I met my future husband (who was, as I said, allergic to cats) and the rest is history, so to speak...
But back to my beloved late companion, my fur baby, my angel... my Dexter. It's only been a few months and I'm still grieving. I couldn't even compose this blogpost without tears in my eyes as I type...
What is love? It is many things. It is people, it is community, it is life. But for me, one of those things that it will always be is Dexter.
