“I've had a lot of worries in my life, most of which never happened”. ― Mark Twain
My cat did not die, but my Mother did. She had an awesome life where she did battle with the world - and had a good time as well. The last eleven years she lived her life with me, in some capacity. Moving to San Francisco to be my CFO, having few sweet years of balance, then with the fall of my brother to the Earth and his death, she began her decline; she fell into my care.
Now, I am tattooed with her memory. I bore witness to her life and saw it for the first time because I "ceased fighting" - as the 12 steppers say.
My "Bear" cat did not die. I shoot him up twice a day with insulin, I watch the old guy carefully. He is 19 which is 92 in human equivalency. I don't mind. He will die - but not today.
Today is a good day not to die - it is so beautiful.
He is in the garden - he has his spot under the dalias and the roses. He has me trained. I give him water out of the hose from which he strongly prefers running water. He has a one-year old girlfriend named Sister Smith. She is one of two kittens that have grown up with the old guy. They watch him when he starts to wander in the neighborhood.
They care for the old guy too and what better thing to do on a sunny day but smell the roses and care for the old cat.
