LIFE WITHOUT DYLAN

I am Dylanless.

Not so long ago I have already told the story of how crazy my cat was driving me and how he disappeared only to come back, only to make me realize things about loyalty, love or something like that. It grew in me, Dylan grew in me. He would sleep near my feet, sit next to me as I wrote, stared at the window, stared at me.

But.

He got hit by a car this week. He had been lost one night, we thought that he, again, was having the sex of his life with this cat that has been around. But no. In the game of love, in the game of chasing-trapping he lost. He was there in front of my house his guts all out. I came close, hoping that cat wasn’t MY cat. But, oh, he was. Dylan, or Dylan.

Dylan the cat is gone, house is quiet, no one comes and purrs, no one jumps to the table, no one stares at whatever it is that I do.

He had only been with us for a few months, but this is the before and after life without Dylan.