Long time readers here may remember that in late fall 2019, our old, tired and beloved cat, Morty, survived a cross-country drive with us for a sojourn here in the country on Martha's Vineyard island. Unhappily, Morty slipped out of a slightly open door unnoticed and simply disappeared. We assumed he'd gotten lost in this foreign-to-him environment and could not have survived, despite our desperate efforts to find him. We mourned.
And then one night a magical friend came running in clutching a dirty gray ball of fur -- "is this Morty?" Indeed it was, and more or less alive. For the better part of a month, we nursed him. We re-hydrated him subcuataneously several times a day. Erudite Partner squirted ground up medicine and baby food into his mouth. He slept beside us.
By the time in December we were ready to drive back across the country, he had perked up, though he still needed some care. So off we all went. He did well riding on the non-driver's lap. When we got home to San Francisco, he settled in. But by early in the 2020 pandemic lockdown, it was clear he was leaving this world. He died in late April.
Erudite Partner's step sister memorialized Morty here in this Vineyard house with this needlepoint pillow. He liked tulips -- especially to snack on. He was a special cat.
4 comments:
Every cat I have met comes with lessons. You just have to listen.
R.I.P. dear Morty... "It seems to me you lived your life like a candle in the wind... never knowing who to cling to when the rain set in... your candle burned out long before your legend ever did..."
So hard to lose our fur beings.
One of the great inequities is that pets don't live as long as people, so we grieve over and over if we continue to give our hearts to cats and dogs that make us better humans.
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