It still doesn't feel right and I find myself shying away from the two older cats, not wanting to get too close to them. It's not that I think they could die - I don't know what it is exactly. Guilt, maybe. Not that my cat lets me get away with it - the youngest of the three left and spoiled rotten, if I tried to distance myself he would slash me to ribbons. If anything, he seems to have become pathologically needy over the last few months and is always at my elbow or rubbing against my arm or biting my nose to wake me up.
I found out last night that they plan to convert our building to condos. The owner hasn't mentioned it; a plumber said so in passing to one of the other tenants. We've been here twelve years, since the Northridge quake. I've wanted to get a house but we've been priced out of the market so long I just assumed that we would stay here until we retired or they razed the building.
At first I was terrified, but I know that we'll ultimately be ok - we'll have to pinch pennies something terrible - but we'll be ok. Now there's a feeling of adventure to it all and I am looking forward to new space and new air. With everything that has happened here, the energy of the place seems spoiled, like meat that's been sitting too long in the fridge, and I think it will be good for all of us to leave it all behind.
