The Long Farewell

My mother has a neurosis about death. Decades ago, when we used to go fishing, she would insist that we let the fish die before cleaning them. When our German shepherd could no longer walk, and was obviously suffering, my dad and I had to sneak her out of the house to get her put down. So it is not surprising that now their old orange cat Peanut is getting the same treatment as the fish.

When we talked to them two weeks ago, they told us about taking "Peanie" to the vet because he hadn't had a bowel movement in ten days. We were hoping they would find it in their hearts to let him go. No such luck. My dad called Saturday to tell us that Peanie had had a movement after a week and a day. He can hardly walk, he barely moves, his quality of life is nil. It's hard to think about my big, strong, brave and free outdoor badass kitty reduced to an invalid.

We're going  down to Georgia to see them in three weeks. I hope they're not trying to make him hang on until then!