Alex Chapter Three: Buddy Time with a Cat in Decline..... 8/31/22

I used a glass bowl, like this one, to 

give Alexander the Grey(t) water

     Alexander, my friend's cat, is kicking. Although, it's no longer with his hind feet. His heart demonstrates persever-ance.  

     I dropped by his house earlier today.  He no longer walks.  I admire his quiet determined personality.  

    He used his two front paws to display his doggedness.  He pulled himself along the carpet.  He tried reaching the litter box.  

   A feline diaper he now wears.  I picked my furry friend up, held him in the box, removing his undies.  He took care of business.  

     Afterward, outside, on a big pillow, like the royal pasha he was, I transported him to the backyard. 

     Laying on his side, unable to move, he viewed the rows of Redwood trees in his backyard.  The mo-ment reminded me of a scene from the movie Soylent Green, where Edward G. Robinson went to end his life.  In the film, Robinson reclines and drinks something that does him in. 

     Before his eyes, he views nature films and listens to music before passing on.  Once outdoors, surrounded by nature, Alexander's ears perked up.  His eyes darted.
    

      Neighboring cats, Sammy the Siamese, Benjamin, the tuxedo cat, and Freddy, the puffy, big, half-feral black cat, came by to sniff him and say goodbye, real gentle like.  Af-ter the feline visitors departed, we sat, watching darting flies---cats notice the darnedest things----butterflies and the occasional flit-ting of a bird.  I swear I saw a smile creep upon his bewhiskered face.  

    Now unable to move, Alex had been cooped, facing the wall in the kitchen all day until then.

    When I returned him to the house he owns, which he shares with the resident, Arlene, I thought he might be thirsty.  Outside, the sun, at length, had caressed his back.  A small glass water bowl I brought to Mr. Grey(t). 

     As I approached, water splashed in the bowl.  His eyes ex-panded, reaching out for it, like a cartoon character seeing something that cap-tured its fancy.  With the water bowl on his pillow, inches from his face, Mr. Grey did not drink.

    No longer can he sit or stand.  This has been the case since Monday.  Tenderly, from behind, I pulled him up with a hand on each of his sides, allowing his scrawny body to stand in front of the shimmering bowl.  

    My feline buddy lowered his head and drank and drank and drank.

    I'm thankful for simple pleasures.  I never realized how satisfying it is doing hospice care, tending to a dying cat, taking time to slow down and listen as Alexander spoke to me with his beautiful green eyes.