Day 285

Last picture of our dear little Lily-cat.

She stopped eating yesterday and miaowed loudly during the night which woke me up, thinking she was in pain.

In the morning she tried to eat but didn't seem able to, and then she followed me around, needing to be with me, even struggling up the stairs about five times to find me in the bathroom where I was doing all the laundry, and later when I had a shower after my run, she lay on the big pile of white socks and towels waiting their turn in the washing machine.  Every time I stroked her she rewarded me with brave soft purring which resulted in wet eyes for me. 

So in the golden afternoon I took her to our lovely vet, who was so sweet with her, and with me, explaining everything she was about to do and what Lily's reactions might be, so that neither of us was frightened, indeed, Lily was lying on her little blanket actually purring while I stroked her, when the vet gave her the sedative injection, and she just slowly relaxed, still breathing but kind of out of it, and then the vet shaved her little skinny leg, and delivered the anaesthetic which killed her so peacefully.  Dr B. was so kind, and as I had opted for cremation she wrapped her carefully in the blanket after offering me more time with her and saying how sorry she was, as I was by this time a complete disaster, but I just thanked her profusely, through my blubbering, managing to communicate to her that it is so wonderful that we can do this amazing thing for our animals, and that she had just done it so beautifully.  She said yes, it had been the best thing to do, we had given her a lovely last few years of her life, and that she hoped that someone could do it for her when her time came. 

Death is so strange, one minute the animal (or person) is alive, with a character, a history, a heart still beating, lungs still inflating and deflating, a life still being lived.  The next second that essence is gone.

I drove home remembering all my dead, and keening for them all.

So goodbye little ancient Lily cat, you have gone for your last constitutional outside among the tall trees, lain in your last patch of warm sunlight, purred your last amazing throaty buzzing purr, smacked your last dog's nose, imagined chasing your last chipmunk, lain in your last royal pose showing your aristocratic profile, slept your last innocent sleep.

I will miss your beautiful white whiskers which were perfect, even when your fur was matted and  moth-eaten from old age's inability to clean your formerly spotless self.  I will  miss your knowing green eyes locking with mine, miss your uncanny ability to know when I walked in the door, even though you were stone-deaf in your last year or so.  I would come home from school, open the door to the sight of you and the black dog coming to greet me, Molly's claws scratching the floor madly as she galloped along, you walking in the elegant manner of cats, pretending not to be hurrying, but eager for my hand on your head and your neck and your ears and your bony back.

You lived nearly twenty-two years and gave us much pleasure for the last five that we knew you.  Rest in peace brave and good little cat.



I ran today through the autumn-coloured meadow, hard going, 2.48 miles (4km).