The Sounds We Miss

After losing my beloved cat Latte, I’ve been thinking about the sounds around me and how we don’t always know which ones we’ll miss until they’re gone.

Sometimes the things that annoy us become the things we miss the most.

In the last year or so, my beloved cat Latte developed a habit of howling when she wanted attention from me, especially when she couldn’t see me. Usually, I found it annoying. Then she died last month. Now I would love to hear her howl again.

When we moved into our new house a few months ago, Latte settled down, probably because she stayed in my mom’s room. They needed each other. But now that I’m missing the sound she no longer makes, I’ve been thinking a lot about sound in a broader sense.

Best I can tell, my home office used to be an elderly man’s workshop. There’s a pegboard on one wall where his tools used to hang, a workbench where he presumably fixed things and a few holes in the workbench where his vise used to sit. I wonder what this room sounded like when he was working in it.

My office has plenty of sounds of its own. On the opposite wall, cool air from the air conditioner whooshes through the furnace most of the day. A fan in the next room sometimes sounds like a helicopter getting ready to take off. A mini-fridge hums in the background. Every once in a while, something hits the ceiling above me when one of our moms drops something upstairs. And we can often hear one of them shuffling across the floor on a walker.

We’ve been in the house for less than three months, so I’m still noticing all of it. I’m also wishing I didn’t notice quite so much of it. I like silence when I work (but noise when I sleep). I’d love to be able to close my office door (my office doesn’t have a door) and hear nothing but the sound of my fingers on the keyboard.

Eventually, I know that some of these sounds will disappear into the background. But the funny thing is, we don’t always know which sounds we’ll miss. I knew I would miss Latte. I didn’t know I’d miss the sound of her howling. Now the quiet is what hurts.