I grew up alongside my cat, Sagwa. Through mean middle schoolers, mind-melting math problems, and the stress of college applications, Sagwa was always there. She would lend a fuzzy ear and offer a purr of support as she curled up on my chest. But now, I find myself subconsciously reaching for her and finding only a pillow in her place. I said goodbye to her in May, returning home from college just a day before she had to be put down. I’m still processing the loss.
My dad believes in heaven and reincarnation. My mom believes in simple decomposition. I don’t know what I believe. Even non-spiritual people say that your loved ones still exist within you after they pass, and I really want to believe that. So, I’m trying to feel Sagwa’s love in every sunbeam and bird, to feel her fur when I brush against tall grass. I’m trying to look for signs, whatever that means.
The other day, I came across the biggest sign yet. Actually, it was quite small; a humble neon blue and pink sign bearing the words “Cat Mewseum.” Though we all know what curiosity did to the cat, it still got the better of me and I entered, greeted by at least a hundred pairs of eyes staring back at me.