My summer has been full of beach, birthday parties, family visits, new chickens, road trips, plays, puppets, writing, knitting, and watching the X-Files. That last one was necessary. I discovered that my husband had only ever seen 3 or 4 episodes of the X-Files and I nearly divorced him immediately in surprise and rage. “What is the matter with you?” I screamed. “What college nerd in the 90s DIDN’T watch the X-Files? What the hell were you DOING on Sunday nights?” To which he sheepishly replied, “Sunday night was D&D with my friends.” I almost blew a blood vessel laughing at how he out-nerded me. Well played, sir.
As amazing as our summer has been, a dark cloud hangs over our family. We lost our Mojo.
My cat Mojo, who has been my companion for 14 years, disappeared at the beginning of June without a trace. We made posters, handed out flyers, talked to neighbors, walked the neighborhood. For weeks we gathered information, called his name, and waited for the phone to ring. I cried and cried.
All summer long, the emptiness that used to be Mojo has been curled up in the corners of the house.
I still have my girl cat Tozi. She’s feisty and funny, but she’s not a lap cat. She’s Little Boy’s cat. She follows him around and plays with him and bothers him. He pets her and loves on her and plays with her, but she’s not interested in being my Sweet Cuddly Love Baby.
Not like my Mojo was.
He could still come home.