I apologize for today's brevity. I don't want to write this.

Life is unpredictable. It’s full of joys, sorrows, and the quiet, steady comfort of companionship. For me lately, that companionship has come in the form of my cats—each with their unique quirks, personalities, and the ability to make my house a home. Over the years, they’ve become more than pets; they’ve become my family, my confidants, and in many ways, my mirrors. Among them is Loki, my grey boy, who is both mischievous and deeply loving.

But as I sit here typing this, my heart feels heavy. Loki has been missing for two days.

It’s hard to describe the bond between a human and their animal. It’s not a relationship defined by words or actions; it’s an unspoken connection, one of trust and mutual care. As I’ve grown older, I’ve found myself clinging to these connections with increasing intensity. Maybe it’s the passage of time, or maybe it’s the understanding that life is fleeting. Whatever the reason, the thought of losing Loki fills me with a quiet, gnawing dread.

Loki isn’t just a cat; he’s a part of my daily life. He’s the one who greets me with an inquisitive chirp when I come home, who lounges on the windowsill with a look that says he owns the world. His absence is palpable, like a missing piece in a puzzle that no longer feels whole.

Today's post is a reflection of that emptiness, but it’s also a tribute—to Loki, to the other cats that fill my life with joy, and to the love and attachment that define my existence. Over the next chapters, I’ll share stories of my cats, the lessons they’ve taught me, and how Loki’s disappearance has stirred emotions I didn’t fully understand before. It’s a journey of hope, worry, and the power of love.

For now, I hold on to the belief that he will return, that this story is still unfolding, and that somewhere out there, my mischievous grey prince is waiting to come home.