Even worse, I'm not ashamed of it.
About two weeks ago we took Midnight to the vet because he was having some problems. He's home now, but we had a bit of a scare for a few days. He's on three different meds with each meal, and he gets a shot every week now. I'm glad he's home, even if he's not thrilled about all the pills or the special diet. Table scraps are his favorite snack but he's not allowed to have them anymore. He's not taking it well.
While he was away for a day to have an ultrasound done, the house felt wrong. We have two other cats, and there were people in and out of the house, but without him there, something was missing. I'd walk in with groceries and he wasn't there to stick his nose in the bags to see what we got. He wasn't suddenly jumping on my lap as soon as I looked away from him while working in the computer. I wasn't being very careful not to trip over him while walking in the hallways. And most importantly, I was alone in the kitchen. I hadn't realized just how often he'd come into the kitchen and just watch me do whatever. It didn't matter if I was doing dishes, putting groceries away, or making dinner. He's just always there. But for one day while he was at the vet's, he wasn't. And it was heart breaking.
Midnight is home where he ought to be. And he's back to keeping me company in the kitchen. I'm trying not to take it for granted that he'll always be there anymore. Even if he doesn't appreciate my randomly walking up to him and hugging him. He'll get over it. He always does.