Mostly I miss Minuit in the mornings.  She was always a part of the morning routine.  I’d get up while everyone else was still asleep.  Minuit was usually lying on our bed; she may have cracked open an eye at me but I couldn’t tell, it was too dark.  But when I was done my shower there she’d be sitting outside the bathroom door, demurely looking the other way but with her ears following my every move.

I’d go in the walk-in closet and close the door so the light wouldn’t wake Helen.  Minuit would never come in with me–that’d be too uncatlike–but about a minute later she’d push the door open, squeeze through, and jump up on the dresser purring and rubbing her head on my arm any time I got close enough, and on the wall otherwise.

When I was dressed I’d sneak quietly out of the room but Minuit would be out already, waiting by the door to the kids’ room.  She’d sit there while I quietly kissed them good morning without waking them, then follow me downstairs right on my heels like an obedient dog.

And all through breakfast and until I walked out the door she’d follow me around.  No, “follow” isn’t the right word.  She’d “lollow” me around.  She’d pretend to lead, always walking ahead of me, but watching me the whole time with her eyes or ears trying to guess where I was headed next so that she could just happen to be going there herself.

Now she’s just happened to go somewhere I can’t follow.