I had a dream last night that we were moving out of the barn. We were actually in the car and driving away and I saw a cat that I thought was Roxy. For a moment I was thrilled and made Steve stop the car and jumped out. As I got closer to the cat I could see that the color wasn't quite right and then I could see that it didn't have Roxy's delicate and crazed face. It actually had kind of a mean, ugly face.

I don't really feel hopeful when I think about her now and I sometimes think about getting another cat. But having never had or particularly liking any cat before, I am finding it impossible to imagine liking another cat the way I liked Roxy.

Cats aren't like dogs, who make their presence known with consistent exhuberance and affection. It was a day before I noticed Roxy's absence, but now that she's been gone for a while I notice the times when I expect her to be present. While I cook, she would jump up on the counter and when I sewed she would jump on the fabric. We would wake up to her raising hell in the middle of the night, chasing animate and inanimate objects. She would make this funny sound the moment that she jumped up onto the bed, so you'd hear this little cat grunt and then she would be next to your head and soon she's be kneading your belly with her paws, making a space to lie down. We all slept with her curled up in the crook of our knees or right on top of us. She always came to nap with Aidan as I nursed him to sleep. She would attack our legs with a flying leap whenever we walked by the bathtub. If she needed food she would continue her assault. She often attacked Wes' legs in the same way when he came in the house. He pretended not to notice.