When the House Won’t Stay Quiet

A Story About Chatterbox and Ellie

Chatterbox passed away in July 2025. She had a presence that filled the house in small, familiar ways. When she was gone, the silence didn’t settle in — it broke open.

Ellie meowed almost constantly for two days.

At first, I thought she might be in pain. Anyone who loves an animal knows that fear — the way your mind goes immediately to worst-case thoughts. I watched her closely. Listened. Tried to figure out what was wrong.

But nothing else pointed to illness.

She was eating. Moving. Resting. And yet, the meowing didn’t stop. It wasn’t frantic, but it was steady, insistent, as if she were calling out to something she expected to answer.

Animals don’t explain loss. They experience it through absence. Through the sudden quiet where a presence used to be. Chatterbox was gone, and Ellie was responding in the only way she could.

For two days, her voice filled the space Chatterbox had left behind.

Then, just as quietly as it began, it stopped.

Ellie settled again. The house found a new rhythm. But those two days lingered with me. They were a reminder that animals grieve, even if we don’t always recognize it right away. Their grief doesn’t follow human rules. It comes out sideways — through sound, behavior, or restlessness.

Ellie wasn’t sick.
She was mourning.

Chatterbox’s absence had been felt, named, and called for — out loud.

And in listening to Ellie, I learned something important: sometimes the most honest response to loss isn’t silence at all. Sometimes it’s the need to be heard.

Artist: Nikki Nadro

Lilly Botto -Writer -” House & Garden” Category