Emma

I took Emma to the vet again this morning. Her condition has only worsened, and, as I had suspected, we will have to put her down. I asked the vet if she had a week, and she just shook her head slowly in response. Chris wanted to be there, too, so I set up an appointment for Saturday morning. The vet will give her a narcotic and then Chris and I will be able to hold her as it takes effect. The three of us will be together for one last time. And then she will pass on.

I called Chris to tell him the news and he came home from work early, because, understandably, he was quite upset. We lay in bed in each other’s arms and just wept and wept. Then we heard a “peep” and it was Emma, barely able to move, coming in to see why we were so sad. She was coming to comfort us. She has, really, no energy at all, but wants to be near us. I think she knows what is going on better than we.

I’m just so torn up about this. I know that it is just my own pessimism getting carried away, but I can’t help but feel this extremely bitter feeling, unable to accept that life seems to take away all those things that are pure and good. She is just such a sweet cat, you know? Just so sweet.




When I calm down, because the grief travels in waves, I realize that we must remember that life is not permanent. The Buddhists are right about this. The Tibetan monks often make elaborate works of art using colored sand. “Mandalas” take days to finish. Then, people can come and observe the beauty that was created. Then, in a final, telling ceremony, the monks simply brush the sand away, emphasizing that, because life has no permanency, we must not try to hold onto it.

We have only today to appreciate the souls that have come into our lives. As cheesy as it may sound, please do me a favor, and tell someone that you love “I love you.” today. Just do it, now, while you can.