Empty Nest

My family has always had pets: be it chickens, hamsters, fish, kittens, cats, or a dog.

We are currently without a pet and the house feels strangely -- peaceful.

Sometimes I imagine I see a cat darting through the room out of the corner of my eye, but I know it is just an illusion. A remembered image, a left over feeling, like a hiccup when really your hiccups have stopped. Sometimes I feel as though I have forgotten to do something when I leave the house, and the feeling nags me as I close the door. Then I realize it is the feeling that I need to feed a pet, or put one outside. It is a concern that has turned into a reflex.

I don't need to rush to shut the door, fearing the dog will race out, even if just a tiny crack is available. I don't need to share my bed with a stretched out pet, pushing me closer to falling off. I don't need to run to the store late at night because we are out of the pet's food. . . I don't need to play, or cuddle, or be sought out by a pet. I don't need a pet. I hate pets.