Large and small ways

It’s strange watching someone have their last meal. In this case it is a bowl of milk and some tuna. Today I knew that I would not see Wifey-Do’s cat again. His tumor had become pretty bad, and it was time to take him to the vet.

I think of how I was so used to having that cat around the house. I remember cursing him when he threw up on a rug, or left a huge hair ball in the basement. I remember being happy for and envious of him as he lay in the shade on a summer day while I had to work. I felt proud of him when he escorted the neighbor's jowly old tom off the property. Today I watched him slowly go to sleep then die. I’m a real cat lover, and now I feel what other pet owners experience when a moment like this comes.

The vetenary clinic has a special room for pets who have come to the end. The light is muted. A mahogany table, covered with a forest green felt cloth stands between two off white chairs. The old cat was more alert today than usual, and I thought of how many times I had heard others say that same thing. We would pet him as he went to sleep and I was careful to dab my eyes with tissue and not my bare hand. Ironically, I have cat allergies, and I have to wash my hands after I pet them.

I thought of how death has visited me in large and small ways. I know it will return. As I watched the old cat, I remembered the funeral of my best friend and the different ways we grieved. I wondered how I was going to bury my parents when their time comes. Like always, I’ll just have to take a deep breath and do it.