This week I has been very different from any week I’ve ever had. Since the end of January enough things have gone wrong to plot a dozen soap operas. The worst of the lot was that illness struck down two of my precious companions, my cats. Monday I had a long consultation with the veterinary surgeon and decided against surgery on my Siamese boy who has cancer. In spite of a swollen jaw he is still eating, drinking, napping, jumping on the counter, enjoying the sun in the window sill, showing me he is independent by going off on his own from time to time. He is living his life as he always has with me and he is most happy I am no longer pilling him, as I was when the vet was hoping it was only an infection.
What makes this week different is that I am doing the impossible, warping time; slowing it down, stretching it out, focusing on each breath we take together, each minute he dozes in my lap. This morning he slipped into the bedroom window sill to smell the fresh air and feel the sun, as he is now as I write, and I went out into the garden to pick the wild strawberries and cut herbs for Four Thieves Vinegar. I need to keep up my health and strength in order to take care of him, so I decided to make up a tonic or two. I also made a resolution to restrain my grief so as not to add my sadness and stress to his burden. This is not easy but if I can warp time I can also do this for him.
I know eventually the spell will break, and my beloved Mosby will go beyond time’s reach, but having mastered this art, I know know it should not be reserved for crisis. I will use it often to savor the ephemeral moments that make living worthwhile. i have learned from him so much of importance and will honor his memory by living as he did, appreciating the moment as it comes.