Prince the Cat on Myrtle

To the owners of Prince, thank you for letting him out. My dad died. A beautiful animal loving man, far too young. I've been cleaning out his belongings, mostly poems and letters. On two occasions, in the last two months, reality set in. It took the form of my shoulders falling, my chest becoming an empty cave, the feeling of sinking into tangible aching. He's gone. Both of these occasions, Prince unhesitatingly let himself in, pressed against me, and climbed into my lap. The first I laughed at the insanity of considering it wasn't a coincidence. Tonight, I can't. He just saved a piece of me. —Only Alone In Appearance

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