Week One: disbelief. “I can’t believe that we just opened a brand new 4lb. bag of prescription food. Do you think it’s safe for humans?”
Week Two: denial. “I did not just eat an entire Sara Lee pound cake. Leave me alone, I’m grieving.”
Week Three: discredit. “He was a good cat. Not a great one.”
Week Four: acceptance. “Possible names for a new pet include: Lou Reed, Carlos Danger or Juan Valdez. I’m definitely leaning Latin here. Also, maybe we can use the space where the litter box used to be for storage and train the next cat to go strictly outside.”
Four weeks + a day: he’s back and acting as if whatever we do for him will never be good enough.
I missed him.
Fresh Air and Sarcasm 
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