And I'm adjusting. Although I've never been one to be in mourning for long, maybe it's because of my upbringing, moving every two to three years, not just across town, but from one side of the country to the other. I'm used to moving on.
I do miss the kitties, but there's definitely an upside. One of them is our population no longer numbers in the thirties. I know that twenty-eight is a lot, but it's not thirty. And we're down ten from our high of thirty-eight (if you count Kitty Meeze, and I do).
Opening up that area in the garage seems to have made huge strides in inappropriate pooping. I haven't found any on the floor in the laundry room in days - Georgie used to go in theree and so did Miss Elizabeth. But now there's lots of room in the garage box area and the boxes themselves are easier to get to; the shorter ones are more accessible to an old cat with arthritis in her back legs. Even Jackie is in the boxes and not in front of them. This is all good.
I like not having cats on the counter. Yeah, they get up there, but the Scaat things that spray compressed air help a lot. I like not having to be careful when I put pots and pans and big things in the dish drainer because of the worry that Georgie might have a hard time getting by them and slipping and falling onto the floor. I like not having to clean different areas of poop off of the kitchen floor and laundry room floor. I like not having major pools of urine on my bathroom floor. I hate that floor anyway, the urine sure didn't make me feel better about it.
You're no longer worried that someone might get hurt doing this or that.
I know it's lemonade out of lemons. If I'd have had the opportunity to choose life as it was vs life as it is, I'd stay with as it was. But that's not my call.
The sadness is passing quickly. And that's a good thing.