When The End is Beautiful

One of my lovely cats had been sick for quite some time.

I watched him go from a strapping ginger tom who prowled the neighbourhood with a regal presence to just a slight shadow of his former self. From terrorising everyone in the house with his fearsome stalking to being a frail cat thoroughly humbled by his growing weakness.

With every dreaded trip to the vet, every bitter pill to he had to swallow, every struggle to live through the day, I cried with him.

When the end finally came last Saturday, I felt a burden being lifted off my shoulders. My dear, dear friend, finally relieved from the pain of his sick body. I cried one last time as I watched him took his final breath — not of sorrow, but of joy that he is finally free. I never thought I would say this about death but his passing was a beautiful, generous gift for both of us.

I miss him terribly but at least I can rest easy in the knowledge that he is now at a better place.

Thank you for your companionship, old friend.