R.I.P. Spike ~ 1993 - noon today

 

  

Spike had a few bad days, since he became ill several weeks ago. But, the next morning, he was always pacing by my bedroom door, eager for attention and the high-calorie treat -- condensed milk -- prescribed by his vet.

But not this morning. This morning, he was lying on his side, unable to move except to lift his head and look at me. I took care of the other animals, then wrapped Spike in a towel and sat holding him.

He was as stubborn about dying as he was living. A few spasms, a few purrs and meowrs, and three hours later, he died in my arms. It seemed to me that he left me before his body gave up, but perhaps not.

I suspect he will never leave me entirely; his personality is too big to just vanish to nothing. It will always hover about here in some way -- reminding me to ask for what I want, to pursue it, to insist on giving and receiving attention and affection.

His eulogy, a bit premature, is here. 

He could always outlast me.