Sit down next to me. Kiss me, smell me, hold my hand. It is alright, I am contagious, but it wont hurt.I promise!
It is raining out. The sky is grey. The drops are small but loud. I love the music. It calms me down and makes me think. It makes me dream. It makes me feel.
My cat is dying. She is 17 years old and has lived as many lives as one could possibly dream of living. She is a miracle in the making. She Is.
This is a scenario that has happened over and over many times. Approximately 9. I guess it is time. She has traveled from New York City to France by plane. Within France she has lived in three different places. Next she ventured to England, by car! She has had 4 breasts removed, one lump and been force fed with a syringe and by hand. She still lives. That is truly desire to live and to be. To have a perfect day every day til she can not have any more. I will continue to help her to stay here and now. I hope she continues to want to.
I love this cat. If she can think,I think she loves me and loves life as much as I do. As I type these words, the organ music from the ancient church behind my home bellows. It is surprisingly moody and fitting.
On my way to my new house this morning , a squirrel was in the middle of the road. It had been hit by a car. I would say within 5 minutes of my finding it. There was blood around its mouth, otherwise it was in perfect condition, aside from being dead. Many people passed it and made faces, but no one did anything. I looked for a stick so that I could move it out of the middle of the road and onto the side for safety. I cried afterwards. I do not think I have been that close to death before. It was a beautiful creature. Its fur was so soft and silky. Its shape so perfect. Its color, glamorous, and it matched my hair!
Go on, catch this bug. In the face of death, love life.
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