Can a day be too pretty?

Today seems to be too pretty to be the day she dies, too sparkly, too vibrant with azaleas and sunshine, unsuitable for death and dying. Still, it’s time, so I sit beside her and keep vigil, I touch her head, her fur soft and smooth.  I speak quietly and say her name, offer water, food. She turns away, not unappreciative, but driven by instinct knowing she has no need for keeping her failing body fueled anymore. Even so, she is still beautiful and dignified, maybe even a little haughty, so Siamese-y! But she’s tired. She rests her chin over the lip of the carpeted cat tree. I tell her what fun it’s been having her in my life. I sit down beside her with a piece of cheese for my lunch, but she doesn’t climb into my lap as usual and yell for her very own piece as she would have just 48 hours ago. I know I’m losing her. She’s a kick-ass spirit, and that’s what I’ll miss the most, her fiery attitude always true to her lioness nature.  She knew her way around, walked with purpose, full of aplomb, head held high, an impish smile just behind the mask. She is a force. Now still and calm, she’s ready to move on and she knows it’s okay. She leaves me with an unspoken example of a life lived to the fullest and sweet memories of a tiny heart huge with love.

Richmond, VA.

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