the final journey
Tuncer and I are moping. The house is already quieter. Minou died this morning.
It takes discipline to wait for death. Like childbirth, it happens on its own schedule. Death is the one certitude we have in life and, yet, it's the most unpredictable.
Minou stood up death twice. While waiting for death to arrive, I made and broke two appointments for euthanasia. I'd made his third date for later in the week, and wondered whether he'd make it til then.
Ultimately, I'm relieved death arrived by its own time-table; it was important to me that I not rush things and, at the same time, that I not make Minou needlessly suffer.
By Monday afternoon, we knew Minou was going to die. We made him a fire and set his bed in front. He slept there most of the evening, under a towel. Periodically, Axel would approach and tickle his face. Axel seemed to know something was up and he didn't try to lug him around the house or pet him with the spatulas. It was all so perfect and we were hopeful Minou would fall asleep for the last time in front of the fire.
But he outlasted the fire-log and stumbled into the bathroom, where he lay for the last few hours, next to the litter box that he tried to use periodically. He was too weak to stand, so I would gently lay him back down in his bed.
Poor Minou. You can't hope to look your best as you're dying. But for such a regal cat, the bathroom just seemed so wrong.
The last scene in "Dead Man," (Jim Jarmusch) has William Blake (Johnny Depp) propped up in a canoe, having been prepared by "Nobody" (Gary Farmer) for his final journey. It is a haunting image: gaunt, bullet-ridden and ravaged, Blake resembles a skeleton as he floats down river and out of frame. It is also one of the most beautiful renditions of death that I have ever seen. To float away from this world into the other has always struck me as the way to go.
It is what I would have wanted for Minou, but, lacking a small, wooden canoe and a river that flows into the sea, I made a nest in an Amazon box. I tucked Minou into one of my shirts and covered him with one of Axel's baby blankets, and placed some photos, flowers, toys and kibble next to him. I'd imagined him curled up, in a sleeping pose. But it turned out that he was posed more regally, like an egyptian cat in a fresco, which suits him. I thought about taking a photo, but rejected that idea as too morbid. In a way, though, it was beautiful.
It takes discipline to wait for death. Like childbirth, it happens on its own schedule. Death is the one certitude we have in life and, yet, it's the most unpredictable.
Minou stood up death twice. While waiting for death to arrive, I made and broke two appointments for euthanasia. I'd made his third date for later in the week, and wondered whether he'd make it til then.
Ultimately, I'm relieved death arrived by its own time-table; it was important to me that I not rush things and, at the same time, that I not make Minou needlessly suffer.
By Monday afternoon, we knew Minou was going to die. We made him a fire and set his bed in front. He slept there most of the evening, under a towel. Periodically, Axel would approach and tickle his face. Axel seemed to know something was up and he didn't try to lug him around the house or pet him with the spatulas. It was all so perfect and we were hopeful Minou would fall asleep for the last time in front of the fire.
But he outlasted the fire-log and stumbled into the bathroom, where he lay for the last few hours, next to the litter box that he tried to use periodically. He was too weak to stand, so I would gently lay him back down in his bed.
Poor Minou. You can't hope to look your best as you're dying. But for such a regal cat, the bathroom just seemed so wrong.
The last scene in "Dead Man," (Jim Jarmusch) has William Blake (Johnny Depp) propped up in a canoe, having been prepared by "Nobody" (Gary Farmer) for his final journey. It is a haunting image: gaunt, bullet-ridden and ravaged, Blake resembles a skeleton as he floats down river and out of frame. It is also one of the most beautiful renditions of death that I have ever seen. To float away from this world into the other has always struck me as the way to go.
It is what I would have wanted for Minou, but, lacking a small, wooden canoe and a river that flows into the sea, I made a nest in an Amazon box. I tucked Minou into one of my shirts and covered him with one of Axel's baby blankets, and placed some photos, flowers, toys and kibble next to him. I'd imagined him curled up, in a sleeping pose. But it turned out that he was posed more regally, like an egyptian cat in a fresco, which suits him. I thought about taking a photo, but rejected that idea as too morbid. In a way, though, it was beautiful.
posted by aelis at 11:16 AM
1 Comments:
I am so sorry, what a beautiful post.
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