Day after day, the same ritual. Warm compress. Gentle wipe. A single, perfect tear reappearing by noon.
Sometimes I think she’s fine. Sometimes I think her body just found a small, harmless way to look like it remembers every loss I’ve ever told her about. cat clogged tear duct
The vet called it epiphora . Too fancy. Miso just looked perpetually moved, as if she’d finished a sad book hours ago and couldn’t quite shake the final page. A brownish trickle stained her white bib fur, then dried into a little comma under her eye. Day after day, the same ritual
The duct stayed clogged. The cat stayed dry-eyed, except for that one steady leak. And I stayed there, cloth in hand, wiping away a sorrow that wasn’t even hers. A single, perfect tear reappearing by noon
Here’s a short piece based on the phrase “cat clogged tear duct”: