I am unutterably sad. It seems that my girl is finally succumbing to the renal failure that we’ve been nursing her through for years. Maybe she’s just having a bad day and will be bouncing around again tonight, but I don’t think it’s likely.
Here she is on the coffee table a little over a week ago. She’s not allowed to be up there. We didn’t let her stay long this time, but she never even tried until recently. Her tail is looking rather posh here, but you can also see the spiky fur of a kidney cat.
I’ve known this was coming for years, got a reminder several times a day when administering all the various meds, and have felt I was perhaps overly pragmatic about the reality of death as I dealt with loss in my life in the past. Yet I am feeling crushed right now. In between checking in with her, I keep trying to work on the front room, and the butterfly that appeared out of nowhere the other night has shown up again.
It’s really a moth, right? The moth of death?