Today we threw out the box that formerly held Marla's favorite cat food, which were given to Cosmo and Moo and who presumably finally finished it. I looked at the box - it held 24 cans of Friskies Classic Pate, including Ocean Whitefish, Marla's favorite flavor - and turned it over in my hands before pitching it into the Robocan.
I had donated a similar, full or almost full box to the vet. When Marla was really hungry, and seemingly couldn't get enough food, she used to go through almost two cans a day. In the last few days, she wouldn't eat even half a can.
I distinctly remembering buying one of those two last boxes - my mom may have given me the other one. Classic Pate was the only kind Marla (sort of) could keep down, and I remember foregoing getting myself a sandwich or a soda just so Marla could have her favorite food.
It wasn't easy the first time Jenn and I went to the pet store and saw that they had sale of it. And when we went to my parent's house for the first time after Marla died, Jenn said, "Thank God she didn't have any small cans of cat food."
But my mom still has a litter box in the garage, for when Marla used to visit, so I didn't have to bring one. I don't know what to do with that.
The other night Moo was on the bed, allowing us to pet her and play with her. Moo sheds, and because she's black and white - hence her nickname - black fur was flying all over the place.
"Brush her,'' Jenn said.
"I don't have a brush," I replied.
"I thought you had one up here."
"Not anymore," I said softly. "It got packed away," with the rest of Marla's things.
"Oh," was all Jenn could say.
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