I don't know how she got out of our loft but she did. Maybe she fell. Maybe she jumped from the second story window. It doesn't really matter. I haven't seen her since Sunday.
My heart is breaking.
For the past 4 days I've functioned. I forced myself to do what I needed to do, because there wasn't much more I could do. Making flyers, reporting her missing at the shelters, talking to neighbors, searching late at night with bags of jingling food only goes so far.
I'm in a slight haze. If I stop to think about it, I know what's going on. I just don't want to stop. I can't. Except right now, I can't think about anything else. She's not here. If she was, she'd be hounding me for pets, purring up a storm before settling on my belly as I write this. It's moments like these that are the most painful.
And I know she's a cat.
But she's also calmed me when I was aching, helped me heal when I was broken, and made me laugh just because. She chose me that day four years ago in the adoption room at the pet store. I remember her leaping to me as soon as the cage door opened. I remember thinking, I guess this was meant to be! As long as she was alive, I never expected to be without her. And here I am, a week almost gone, and I'm alone.
Christian let me get a cat because in part he thought I needed a baby substitute. I think a lot of people our age do just that. They get pets because they feel like they can't have kids (or don't want to). In many ways, Java was (is) our fuzzy baby. But she's also just an animal.
That's what I keep telling myself.
And I think I would be fine if I knew where she was, had seen her, or knew she was dead. I think I'd be alright if some family had taken her in and loved her (but of course, I'd want them to return my Java).
Not knowing is the worst.
And I'm afraid of never knowing. I'm afraid a week will become weeks, weeks will become months, and months will become years. I'm not sure when I should start thinking about another animal, if I should at all.
But she's just a cat. She's just a cat - my cat. And I miss her terribly.