The Silence is Deafening …

It’s tough coming home to an empty and quiet house. 

One of the things we miss most about Clyde is his constant “meows” for attention.  For almost 15 years, he would wake us up in the morning by meandering into our bedroom with a chirpy “meow” as if to say “Okay you two, time to get up and feed me!”  

He would chirp and chirp and meow and meow and lead me (David) into the kitchen to be fed for breakfast.  Once he was fed … he was off to take a nap. 

If either or both of us were home around 11:00 am, Clyde’s internal feeding clock would go off for one of his favorite delicacies: chicken or turkey Gerber’s baby food.  “Meow! Meow! Meow!” he would chirp until we spoon fed him half the jar.  Then he was off to take a nap.

If Sue was home with Clyde, she could release twist the cap of a 2-liter bottle of Coca-Cola, and after the “sssssss” of the pressure release, Clyde would suddenly appear, chirping for some tuna from Sue’s lunch. 

After a long day at work, we’d come home to be greeted by Clyde.  “Meow!  Meow!  Meow!” he would chirp as he strolled out from under the dining room table to greet us.  “Hooray, you’re home!  Time to feed me again!” 

He would then proceed to carry on at great length following us around the house, as if to tell us all about the fabulous day he had sleeping in various rooms, watching birds and squirrels through the patio door, sniffing bugs and eating cat crunchies.  Eventually, we would go through his little feeding routine, and then off he would go for another nap. 

Clyde in 1993

Now that Clyde’s gone, the silence is deafening. 

Now, only my alarm clock jars us out of bed.  There’s no one to greet us at the bottom of the stairs and we stroll to the kitchen unassisted.  11:00 am comes and goes in silence.  We eat with only our own voices to fill the air.  We come home to an empty and quiet house. 

Sue has found it tough to be home alone on Sunday without Clyde around to help her eat lunch and to listen to my radio show.  She also misses Clyde sitting outside our home office when Sue works from home.

We’re very sad, and we miss our little friend.  We miss his presence, knowing he was always somewhere in the house, often just nearby keeping us company from a distance. 

But, most of all, we miss all his wonderfully chirpy and happy meows that broke the silence for almost 15 years.