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An awkward truth about mortality
May. 27th, 2024 02:51 am My brother's cat Tigger is going to die in the next few days. He's really skinny, wobbly on his feet, and has hardly eaten anything since Wednesday. His kidneys are shot and he'd really gone off food for the most part months ago, but I gave him some Temptations™ treats like my Dad used to do, and he ate those, so I have been just buying bags of them and putting them out for him on a little plate, and that's gotten us another five or six months together.
But now he's hiding under the sofa, and just kind of hunching up when he sits with me. He's still interested in tuna water, so he's got a little time left, but it can't be much. Of course, I'm bad at estimating this kind of thing. When the oncologist told Dave there was nothing more to be done, she said he likely had a month or so left; it was one week. When Mom came home to hospice, the doctor's said it would be a week or two; it was less than 24 hours.
But however long it is, I'm once again on a death vigil, and I'm struck by the mundanity of it. Surely there should be some profound action I should take, a ritual to provide a capstone to a life; or at least constantly attending to my friend in his finale.
Damned if I know what it is. I'm not dying. I still have stuff to do this week, this month, and however much longer my mind gets to drive this collection of molecules around. If I ever get the hang of this, I'll start a cult.
EDIT: As it was, Tigger was with me for another nine days. I hope they were good ones, or at least not too bad, for him. I'll be burying his ashes with Dave next time I visit the family.
But now he's hiding under the sofa, and just kind of hunching up when he sits with me. He's still interested in tuna water, so he's got a little time left, but it can't be much. Of course, I'm bad at estimating this kind of thing. When the oncologist told Dave there was nothing more to be done, she said he likely had a month or so left; it was one week. When Mom came home to hospice, the doctor's said it would be a week or two; it was less than 24 hours.
But however long it is, I'm once again on a death vigil, and I'm struck by the mundanity of it. Surely there should be some profound action I should take, a ritual to provide a capstone to a life; or at least constantly attending to my friend in his finale.
Damned if I know what it is. I'm not dying. I still have stuff to do this week, this month, and however much longer my mind gets to drive this collection of molecules around. If I ever get the hang of this, I'll start a cult.
EDIT: As it was, Tigger was with me for another nine days. I hope they were good ones, or at least not too bad, for him. I'll be burying his ashes with Dave next time I visit the family.
