. . . and the days dwindle down

Cats 2009  august 109

Simon has an open wound in his mouth.
They say it is a tumor, a terrifying word,
and one that brings the idea of death
into the room and into our lives.

Simon doesn’t complain; he thinks
it is all a part of his life and probably
everyone has it—the pain, the inability
to eat, to stop drooling.

Unfortunately, he thinks, we keep
forcing his mouth open and squirting
in medicine that tastes like rust.
We offer him treats right after, but

he doesn’t eat them the way he used to.
One, maybe two, and he walks away.
We are trying to make his last days
or weeks wonderful, treat him like royalty

but still he fades. He used to be a fat cat
we called “cow cat” or “the bear” but now
his bones are sharp with only a layer
of silken fur covering them. He wants our laps

so we allow him to drool on our clothes,
spend every moment he wishes and call
him when he is absent. Such will be
all our days as long as possible

and then, that last trip to the vet where
they offer the towel when I gather him
into my arms while they give him the shot.
I don’t care what gets on me, just give me

a look of forgiveness and peacefully
slip into sleep. We will have to take home
the empty carrier, throw away his half eaten
food and sit with a huge emptiness on our laps.

Published in: Uncategorized on September 27, 2015 at 11:26 am  Comments (2)  

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2 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. Oh Jackie, my heart aches for you…so sorry to hear about your beloved pet. No words can lessen your sadness, I know. When I had to take that trip to the vet with Zack, my golden retriever, I cried and cried. But that night I had the most beautiful dream–in it Zack was a puppy again, and leaping into my lap and I was so happy. No one else could see him but me, and I wondered why. But I truly think he was there to tell me that all was well…

    • Thank you so much Sharon. This is such a sad time; I think tomorrow will be the day.

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