Cryin' Time
Posted: August 31st, 2005, 1:47 pm
Part of the inherent misery in the human situation is that we get attached to things. We get attached to things and places and more importantly, we get attached to other people and pets.
As I write I am in a state of impending grief. Our cat Wink has disappeared. He was an old man. I guess that's why we got along so well. Every morning for the past several years the first thing that I do is go to the back door where Wink is waiting. It's a glass paned door and his wide green eyes are shining at me from his black background. I let him in and say, "good morning, sir." and he meows and proceeds to his dish. After munching a bit of kibble he invariably hops up into my lap as I'm trying to read my morning email. Then he will normally curl up on the chair that I have next to mine (just for him) and spend the rest of the morning with me as I write.
Today Wink wasn't at the back door. Last night when he went out he was walking slowly and mewing in a different tone than usual. I could tell he was sick. We thought he would come back in, but he disappeared into the bushes. I have looked in all of his usual hiding places and under every bush on the premises and Wink is not to be found. I think that he might have pulled the old Indian trick and wandered off to die in the wilderness where he won't burden the rest of the tribe with his moans or his remains. There is style and grace in that.
As I write I am in a state of impending grief. Our cat Wink has disappeared. He was an old man. I guess that's why we got along so well. Every morning for the past several years the first thing that I do is go to the back door where Wink is waiting. It's a glass paned door and his wide green eyes are shining at me from his black background. I let him in and say, "good morning, sir." and he meows and proceeds to his dish. After munching a bit of kibble he invariably hops up into my lap as I'm trying to read my morning email. Then he will normally curl up on the chair that I have next to mine (just for him) and spend the rest of the morning with me as I write.
Today Wink wasn't at the back door. Last night when he went out he was walking slowly and mewing in a different tone than usual. I could tell he was sick. We thought he would come back in, but he disappeared into the bushes. I have looked in all of his usual hiding places and under every bush on the premises and Wink is not to be found. I think that he might have pulled the old Indian trick and wandered off to die in the wilderness where he won't burden the rest of the tribe with his moans or his remains. There is style and grace in that.