On Monday, I move. This may be the last entry as a resident of Toronto, at least for now. Peterborough, my mother's house, and school all await me.

The art is off my walls now, with the exception of two small pieces that need careful wrapping - one a Chinese symbol of love, I think (it was a handpainted wedding favour from a friend in Virginia), the other a faux stone carving of the Mayan god of wisdom. I'll probably place these two items into the same box as my great dragon mask (helm) and the half-mask I made for Rick. It's hard to remove the art on my walls as each piece is part of what makes the place my home. With the walls bare, now, I can really get down to the nitty gritty and pack the rest of my stuff. The house is empty of cats, Willi being up at the cottage with Mom, Tobe and Wiskers living with Stew's father for the time being. It's a bit lonely, but with the current state of humidity, I was more than happy that no cat was on my chest or stretched out alongside me.

Of course, Chester still has not come home. Slowly, I'm getting used to the idea that he really is gone. Mom believes he may have actually gone into the bush to die. He had been suffering from what looked like a kidney attack at the cottage. Sometimes it's hard to tell, especially when he was outside so much of the time. We will never know for sure, of course, but neither of us have dreamt of him since that one night and for us that seems like proof enough. He is gone.

As I said to Mom while I was still up at the cottage, it is a place haunted by the ghosts of many cats. Each cat we've had up there has left an impression in memory. I see Snowshoe, a cat of my early childhood, hollering from the shore at Mom and me as we paddled out in the canoe. We still slow down driving on the road at night by the hunting club expecting Misha to peek out of the field (now long overgrown) before disappearing only to be waiting for us at the door. On the big rock at the outhouse, Placi still dances, his tail held high and quivering. And now Chester will join them, sleeping in the depressions behind the house and on the blueberry rock.

Packing up house and moving away, no matter how near or far, is hard to do. Losing a loved-one, either two-legged or four, is very painful.

It's hard to say goodbye.