Written on Moving Day, January 9: It's the Little Things that Matter

One of the saddest things about my move was seeing my former cat Lyon's favorite toys suddenly revealed when a living room cabinet was moved. There they were: a light blue catnip mouse and a red-and-yellow hedgehog. The latter was a funny-looking toy, but I still remember marveling at the soon-gone identifying label. Without the tag, I wouldn't have had any idea what it was. Both toys still bore traces of cat hair mixed with dust.

Chasing those toys, and others, across the floor, where they eventually disappeared beneath the furniture, was Lyon's favorite pastime until he got too old for such frivolity. I always tried to retrieve the toys, but obviously those two got away from me a few years ago. Suddenly I remembered those years of watching Lyon and the cats that came before him at play, and I was sad. As I approach what will probably be my final move, nostalgia reigns.

When I first contemplated this move, back in 2004 or so, I made a point of asking if pets would be allowed at The Clare. I wouldn't have signed up if the answer had been "no." But little more than a year later, Lyon succumbed to complications of his diabetes. Will he be replaced? I don't know, but seeing his old toys reminded me of pleasant years.

In the traumatic process os moving, it is, indeed, the small things that are memorable.