…nothing. It’s still hard after all these years to reach out for someone in the hour before daylight and find nothing. Nothing to touch. Nothing to snuggle up to. Not even the heavy breathing that characterized her final days. She had been my faithful companion for the last fifteen years.
Lucy also had an attitude problem. I would joke with my friends that she even walked with an attitude. It was like her body language said “You want a piece of me? Well bring it on mister.” She became ill a couple of years ago and her state of health was deteriorating quickly. In her last days she became very irritable at the slightest little change in her daily routine. I now had to feed her myself. And she hated taking her pills that the doctor had ordered for her. “What do they know about my state of heath. I bet they look it all up on Goggle and then regurgitate the information hoping that I would understand what the hell they were saying.” On her last medical appointment the doctor had prepared me for the worse case scenario.
Her death came very quickly. I put her in the hospital the night before and the doctors called me late the next afternoon to say that I should come down to the hospital quickly to say my goodbyes.
As I entered the hospital I was greeted by a very somber technician who lead me to a “grieving room”. This room smelled of death. There was no hiding or masking of that smell. After a few minutes they brought her body in. She looked wide awake. Too wide awake. She had her leg bandaged in preparation for inserting the needle that would take her to another world. In a few minutes it was over. I stayed and prayed for what seemed like days. I don’t usually cry but I sure was making up for that in a big hurry as the tears would not stop.
When I was ready to leave they had already put her in an urn. She now rests on top of the fireplace mantle with our other deceased cats.