[dropcap2 variation=”teal”]I[/dropcap2]t takes something as serious as impending death to make me return to One Page. Norman is close to the end. For those who don’t know, Norman is my Mr. Kitty-Kitty. He’s been my prince in feline clothing since I adopted him in 1999, at age 1. That makes him 13 years old now.
I fell in love with Norman the minute I saw him — all green eyes and purring swagger. He looked at me with his clear, forest eyes and I knew. He was a two-fer. I ended up adopting both him and his brother Gordon. We lost Mr. Kitty-Kitty’s brother three years ago February, kidney failure from melamine poisoning. They both had some of the contaminated cat food. I just got a letter in the mail this week about the settlement. The irony is not lost.
Gordon was a wonderful cat, but Norman has always had my heart. I’ve pushed him away from the bright white light at least three times with intensive nursing in the past few years, but I think not this time. When your cat — who loves tuna — refuses to do more than sniff a plate filled with the stuff after not eating for days, I think it may be time.
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The vet comes tomorrow. Maybe he’ll tell me good news I’m not expecting. More likely he’ll outline the ways in which Norman could spend his last days/time.
Today, he spent a bunch of time on my lap, purring as I stroked his fur. He’s curled up at my feet as I type this. I don’t want him to go.. But if keeping him here means weeks filled with pain, I need to have the strength and love to let him join Gordon. I have to know when to say when.