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Buster's last hour

I didn't want him banging in the carrier & by the time we set off for the vet he could no longer walk. So I wrapped him in a towel & carried him in my arms, Pieta-style. And here he was, outside in the bright sun of a spring-like day for the first time in at least 8 years. He blinked & then he smiled. He basked. He got to have one last moment of pleasure in life. A little kitten love for the fresh air & adventure of his youth.


After that he stared into my eyes the entire walk to the vet. I don't have words for what it meant, just that it was profound, reassuring, & communication beyond what I've had with most people. It could have been: Are we good? Will you let me go? I don't want to but there's no body left to hold my love. You have to trust me, as I have to trust me.


All of that, but not in words. I was seen by him & he by me. 

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