We said goodbye to our big buddy, our Cornish Rex cat named Merlin, who died in my arms a little while ago. Watching death is never easy (I have a deep appreciation for people working in hospitals and other places where death is frequently observed) — the convulsions, the crying out, looking into your eyes for comfort, help, something…anything…the struggle to restart the heart and keep breathing…the last breath…the last twitches of the ear.
He almost died earlier this afternoon and I comforted him, telling it was all right to go to sleep but he didn’t want to. He perked up when he heard the garage door opener, knowing Janeil was coming into the house. She held him while I ran out to get dinner. She then handed to me after I returned, because he was begging for me one last time, and he was gone within minutes.
He turned 16 Earth years old on the 20th of May. The last three days I had been washing fleece blankets because Merlin could no longer control his bladder. I put him in a warm fleece blanket one more time late this afternoon when I picked up his body, knowing he was dying because his back legs no longer worked. His cooling body is curled up in a box beside me, waiting to be buried after I write this Facebook entry.
Dear boy, you were a great friend to my wife, me, and your [half]brother Erin, who already walks around the house searching for you.
Who would have thought two months ago, when Erin was coughing up blood and you seemed to be fine, that you would be the first to go?
To you, my sofa and bed companion, my lap heater, who a few days ago was pushing me out of the way, even in a weakened condition, for his own corner of the couch, I raise a toast in your name! Beannacht leat go bhfeicfidh mé aris thú!