When It Feels Like the End

We prepare ourselves, but it doesn't change anything

Photo by Eric BARBEAU on Unsplash

I'm not going to tell you anything you don't already know today, but that's okay. Besides, I'm not a teacher, so I don't have any lessons to teach you. I just want to write what's on my mind, so that's what I'm going to do, as always: someone who makes jokes and laughs with you isn't necessarily someone who is happy at the moment you think they are. We all know that, of course.

Yesterday, you may have thought I was a happy and relaxed man. And yet that day, the vet spoke to my mother and me calmly and delicately to tell us that our 17-year-old cat was living his last moments. There is no certainty, but a tumor in his pancreas is probably taking his life, slowly but surely. The clock has started ticking, unfortunately.

I'm making jokes here on Substack, while at the same time, a sea of tears is forming deep inside me. Seventeen years of living together is an eternity. But it's never enough, never. It is not possible to turn the hourglass over in these cases.

When we went to pick him up at his birthplace in 2008, he was barely two months old and fit entirely in my hand. I loved him with all my heart. At the time, he was still living in my childhood home with its large garden and shady corners where he loved to spend entire afternoons sleeping. He was never a great hunter or a great athlete. But he was sensitive to swallows, which he watched flying in the yard in front of the house, making strange little cries. What am I doing? STOP.

I love him with all my heart. He's still breathing. He's here with me. He's eating a little. He's vomiting. He's lost a lot of weight. 600 grams in three months. He's no longer the plump cat he used to be, but he's here with me. He's weak, but he still asks for food, just like he did on the first day. He purrs when I stroke him and scratch him behind his ears and under his chin. He purrs when I kiss him on his head and cheeks. He's here with me. We look at each other, just like on the first day. There are tears in my eyes. He doesn't seem to be in pain, but I know that he knows, just as I know it. He's here with me. But for how much longer?

Why? Why? Why?

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