17 June 2006

Journal Entry

My cat Flame just died. Or maybe not; as I look at him he seems to be breathing shallowly, but when I look again—not. It’s just some trick of the light. I went into the bathroom to take my bath a bit before three and he was lying on the floor, very still. I thought he was dead for a moment, but he spoke, his usual querulous meow. He spoke several times, complaining loudly when I lifted him from the floor onto a folded towel that I thought might be more comfortable for him, and I think he appreciated it, as he settled down a little and spoke more quietly. I petted him and told him to relax, that this was a natural transition, the next step on a journey that I could not accompany him on, but that I was here to see him off as best I could. Not that it mattered what I said to him, except perhaps to myself; he may have liked hearing my voice, though—he meowed a couple of times as I ran my bath and got in it as if to check on whether I was still there. After my bath I cleared off a cushion here in the music slash computer room upstairs, and I went back to the bathroom and picked him up gently, his towel still under him. I think he was still alive when I picked him up—I thought I saw him breathing—but when I set him down on the cushion I no longer saw any sign of life. I think he literally died in my arms.

1 comment:

tangled_wood said...

Hey Sam, its Skye.
I just made an account on here so I could send along my condolences in regards to old Flame.

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