Weblog 187
September 6, 2009~ 12:00am
Last week at this time I was already rejoicing because my almost 21 year old cat had responded to yogurt, and for four blissful days I didn't stop smiling.
I believe that was the old fella's last hurrah, because for the past two days, he's stopped eating: mostly sleeps-- has become incontinent, and weighs next to nothing. In short...Mr B is dying right before my eyes, but I am grateful for all our years together.
That's my boy about 4 years ago, in healthier times-- a handsome, and very well-behaved and loving cat.
Wayne and I have decided to let him slip away in his own home. Renal failure is a gradual, fairly painless death. From what I have read (and that's all I've been doing, researching online) he's definitely in the final crisis, and feels mostly immense fatigue. But we're showering him with love-- and on Friday, Wayne dug a deep grave in the backyard. On Saturday, he deepened and widened it into a perfect rectangle. I bought a huge pot of fall asters to put on the cement slab we're going to place on top when the time comes, and for a coffin-- I've chosen a small black leather briefcase I've had for years. I'll swaddle Mr. B in one of my soft cotton, long-sleeved shirts, hoping to keep my arms around him into the hereafter.
Everything is prepared. It's the 'death watch' now, and terribly, terribly sad and hard.
The heart aches only because it loves so much. The world is still here. There is beauty everywhere in the smallest things; in the unexpected and surprising gifts.
I intend to concentrate on beauty as much as possible. Even now.........especially now.
That wonderful picture was taken by my boss in her backyard. She's got a 'butterfly garden', and 'herb garden', two dogs and two cats. She's one of those positive presences who sees the world through a painter's eyes, and snaps up beauty in moments like that.... in instances of pure grace. (Monday mornings are tough trotting off to work again, but that tree frog brightened my day when I opened my email.)
See? Enthusiasm. That tiny frog will not live a Methuselah life by any means, but it's not the length of days, it's the joy and exhilaration in being alive.... finding that special leaf in a patch of sunlight, a frog looking like gold for a moment.
Her flowers are gorgeous as well.
What wonders, those little white stars! We have to learn to look closely- to really see. Who would have thought that one of these lovelies close up
would appear so velvety? So liquidy-shimmering at the center? We miss so much by rushing through life, but pictures like this, and the love and care of pets, have much to teach about the kind of appreciation that's necessary for a truly happy life.
Enthusiasm again. The sharing of the richest things in life....nature itself. Takes the breath away, these huge pink blooms-
those lovely flowers on a 15 year old plant-- we're given gifts every day of our lives. Mostly in each other and in the sharing of exuberance.
I thought this would be a 'sad entry' week, and of course, it certainly is....but I wanted Beethoven's last entry on this blog to be something of affirmation, not just loss, because life isn't just one or the other...it's always both, every day. We need to remember that. I need to remember that right now, with this skinny old cat here at my feet, almost sleeping....fading. I need to think about life, and joy......and memories. And nothing destroys those. Not even time.
September 6, 2009~ 10:00am
My baby is still here. I woke up this morning convinced he'd have passed in the night, but he's still rose up on wobbly legs to greet me when I came downstairs, and naturally there were tears.
All life takes its time in dying once disease has claimed it for its own. Beethoven's has been particularly graceful and remarkably peaceful. I found this painting, and it gives me strange comfort
I stare at that painting and yes, it gives me comfort. It's warm. It's full of love.
September 7, 2009~ 8:00am
The inevitable has happened.
Requiescat In Pacem
Beethoven
1989 - 2009
My lovely boy passed last night. Sweet and dignified to the last.
I shall miss him like a limb.
***
(Return To Weekly Archives)
Last week at this time I was already rejoicing because my almost 21 year old cat had responded to yogurt, and for four blissful days I didn't stop smiling.
I believe that was the old fella's last hurrah, because for the past two days, he's stopped eating: mostly sleeps-- has become incontinent, and weighs next to nothing. In short...Mr B is dying right before my eyes, but I am grateful for all our years together.
That's my boy about 4 years ago, in healthier times-- a handsome, and very well-behaved and loving cat.
Wayne and I have decided to let him slip away in his own home. Renal failure is a gradual, fairly painless death. From what I have read (and that's all I've been doing, researching online) he's definitely in the final crisis, and feels mostly immense fatigue. But we're showering him with love-- and on Friday, Wayne dug a deep grave in the backyard. On Saturday, he deepened and widened it into a perfect rectangle. I bought a huge pot of fall asters to put on the cement slab we're going to place on top when the time comes, and for a coffin-- I've chosen a small black leather briefcase I've had for years. I'll swaddle Mr. B in one of my soft cotton, long-sleeved shirts, hoping to keep my arms around him into the hereafter.
Everything is prepared. It's the 'death watch' now, and terribly, terribly sad and hard.
The heart aches only because it loves so much. The world is still here. There is beauty everywhere in the smallest things; in the unexpected and surprising gifts.
I intend to concentrate on beauty as much as possible. Even now.........especially now.
That wonderful picture was taken by my boss in her backyard. She's got a 'butterfly garden', and 'herb garden', two dogs and two cats. She's one of those positive presences who sees the world through a painter's eyes, and snaps up beauty in moments like that.... in instances of pure grace. (Monday mornings are tough trotting off to work again, but that tree frog brightened my day when I opened my email.)
"Check out what was on my BASIL today! Too damn cute for words. He/she was only about an inch long. Every time I tried to take his picture, he would move around – like he knew. Found a beautiful chrysalis also, hanging from a morning glory vine. I need to take a picture in the early morning when the morning glories are blooming. I think we will have some hatching out within the next day or so."
See? Enthusiasm. That tiny frog will not live a Methuselah life by any means, but it's not the length of days, it's the joy and exhilaration in being alive.... finding that special leaf in a patch of sunlight, a frog looking like gold for a moment.
Her flowers are gorgeous as well.
What wonders, those little white stars! We have to learn to look closely- to really see. Who would have thought that one of these lovelies close up
would appear so velvety? So liquidy-shimmering at the center? We miss so much by rushing through life, but pictures like this, and the love and care of pets, have much to teach about the kind of appreciation that's necessary for a truly happy life.
"Also here's a pic of my Alma Potschke aster – they are amazing this year. And my hoya bloomed for the first time in its life. That thing has to be about 15 years old! An interesting year, indeed."
Enthusiasm again. The sharing of the richest things in life....nature itself. Takes the breath away, these huge pink blooms-
those lovely flowers on a 15 year old plant-- we're given gifts every day of our lives. Mostly in each other and in the sharing of exuberance.
I thought this would be a 'sad entry' week, and of course, it certainly is....but I wanted Beethoven's last entry on this blog to be something of affirmation, not just loss, because life isn't just one or the other...it's always both, every day. We need to remember that. I need to remember that right now, with this skinny old cat here at my feet, almost sleeping....fading. I need to think about life, and joy......and memories. And nothing destroys those. Not even time.
September 6, 2009~ 10:00am
My baby is still here. I woke up this morning convinced he'd have passed in the night, but he's still rose up on wobbly legs to greet me when I came downstairs, and naturally there were tears.
All life takes its time in dying once disease has claimed it for its own. Beethoven's has been particularly graceful and remarkably peaceful. I found this painting, and it gives me strange comfort
"This painting by Dutch artist Jan Cornelisz Vermeyen shows the Holy Family resting by a fire after returning from Egypt. As most cats will do, this one has found the very best place to relax --snuggled up against Mary's feet on a pile of soft fabric, close to the warm fire."From ancient Egyptians-- into the Middle Ages, when cats saved folks from disease by hunting plague carrying rats, or barn cats, in capturing mice that ate through grain meant for the livestock, cats have enjoyed a warm and close relationship with humans. In modern times, they are merely the very best of companions.
(c. 1550, Vermeyen, The Holy Family By The Fire, painting)
I stare at that painting and yes, it gives me comfort. It's warm. It's full of love.
September 7, 2009~ 8:00am
The inevitable has happened.
Beethoven
1989 - 2009
My lovely boy passed last night. Sweet and dignified to the last.
I shall miss him like a limb.
(Return To Weekly Archives)
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