One of the most startling changes after Binky left was how quiet the house became. He was, to butcher Shakespeare, full of sound and love, signifying everything.
From his snoring to his purrs you could hear from across the room. His sighs, the sounds of his nails clattering on the floor, yowling to go outside.
But what I find I miss most of all is something particular. He’d get up with a little grunt from laying next to Patricia and jump down to the floor with a thump. He’d stretch, often with a little grunt, before walking with audible steps to the water bowl…
He drank a lot of water. His kidneys weren’t great and the prednisolone probably increased his thirst, so these sounds happened a lot.
…but when he got there, the sound that I miss most was the sound of his tag tinkling against the side of the pyrex container we used for their water (followed by the sound of lapping water like you’d expect from a lion).
After we’d go to bed and Binky snuggled up to my legs or, more likely, between my legs, occasionally he’d wake me up as he got up. I’d hear him stretch on the wooden side table before jumping down to the carpet and I’d hear him walk down the hall. Sometimes I’d hear litter getting displaced as he used the litter box but more often, it’d be the same as upstairs—the tag against the glass bowl followed by lapping water and then, after he slaked his thirst, him landing back up on the side table before making his way back down the bed to reclaim his space.
It’s funny. As I wrote this, Abbie jumped down off her tree and made her way to the water dish (albeit a different one now). No sound of her tag hitting the dish and just a barest hint of the sound of her lapping up water, and that’s just because the tv wasn’t playing.