Even though I can think of lots of comments about the fact that Republican VP candidate Gov. Sarah Palin has a teenage daughter who is expecting a baby, and maybe we could all come up with our own little snarky comments, I really really hate to think of a seventeen year old girl who probably is already stressed about, you know, being pregnant, and then all of a sudden not only do her classmates have to know about it and she has to face the judgemental looks of friends and family, and face all the emotions that come with being unexpectedly pregnant and having a baby, but the whole freaking country knows about it and is having their say and judging you. That would just suck. And it is not fair to her. I wish everyone, especially Democrats, would do the right thing and say, “Regardless of the extent to which her mother may or may not be a candidate/woman I like, or the extent to which her mom and others use family life to make political points, we are going to take the high road and spare this young woman more stress and attention and not use her to make some sort of political point.” I don’t think that this will happen, but it at least makes me feel better to say that I wish it would be so.
And such is the case with the passing of our Murray. He still breathes shallowly, his little eyes opening just a slit every once in a while. But his time is here. I have written about him several times on here. He has been sick on and off for many months. We thought he might be better. But on Thursday he got much worse, very fast. Our vet tried some alternative treatments. But they merely perked him up for a few hours, until he descended back into that space between this world and the next. We hope he will pass gently on his own, comfortable in his little fuzzy bed, tucked in his favorite closet where he is happiest. But if he hangs on until tomorrow, we will gently take him to the vet and give him the help he needs to let go. I thought that I would be okay with it – sad, but not too sad, knowing that he has always been a bit weak and sickly, and that he would be far more comfortable in some world beyond this one. But instead I am just overwhelmed with sadness and wishing he could be better and it, well, it just hurts. Logic about how this is best for him and was partially expected doesn’t make it much better that my kitty is dying, and he is uncomfortable and, as a mostly feral cat, even less consolable than a regular sick cat.
My partner, Mr. Philospher, told me so ministerially and lovingly that the heart has reasons which reason does not know. It is so true. Our hearts so often just do their own thing, no matter what we tell them.
Such is this life of suffering and joy and struggle and hope.
May your passing be smooth and comfortable, sweet Murray. We love you.
Here is Murray just last week cuddling his favorite foster kitten, Juliet.