A Week

So it's been almost a week without him. So weird to be in a house-- in a
world-- without Stinky. I expect to see him all the time-- when I get to
the top of the stairs, I expect to see him lounging on Mom's bed. When I
walk into the dining room, I expect to see him on the table. My mind cannot
get around the idea that he will not come back. Even though his ashes are
now sitting in a little green tin on the table. When I brought home Mimi's
ashes, that opened the floodgates and I knew she was gone. Even that
hasn't done it for me with Stinky. Even with the box of ashes sitting where
he use to sit, I still don't believe it.
I'm understanding, too, something of what Tak went through with Betty-- I
saw my beloved die. Even though I saw him die, I still think he's coming
back-- but even though I think that, I still dwell on those terrible
moments. He was not a well cat at the end, of course, but I still saw him--
and held him-- while he went from my sweet, alive Stinky boy to a lifeless,
staring rag in my arms. When the doctor put the needle in his leg, I went
down on my knees and made him look right into my face, so it would be the
last thing he saw. But the last thing I saw was him die, and then his poor
dead body. That was the last time I was with him, so it has been hard not
to think about, especially at night.


--
Theresa and Dante
drtmuirATearthlink.net

Stinky Forever: http://community.webshots.com/album/125591586JWEFwh

--
Theresa and Dante
drtmuirATearthlink.net

Stinky Forever: http://community.webshots.com/album/125591586JWEFwh