Squeakie

The little ones, Tiger and Tuffy, had to have their six-week shots today and they came home a bit groggy but none the worse for wear, just not their usual ebullient selves. Here they are dozing off the effects of the shots.

And then there's Squeakie, who isn't even squeaking anymore, just lying on our bed waiting to die. The people at 4-Paws told us that there was nothing they or we could do for her, just let her pass on her own as long as she's not in pain. But the waiting is painful for us. She's been with us for fifteen years, our little squeakie calico we brought home from 4-Paws fifteen years ago along with her buddy Dusty. Dusty was three years old then and we were always embarrassed when Squeakie would suckle on him. But if Dusty didn't care, why should we have cared? So we let her do it for nearly a year. Then she gave up her youth and quit the suckling. And now she's nearly ready to join Dusty in that big heavenly cat haven in the sky. Very soon now I'm going to have to take her to our vet, just as I did with Stephanie, who died just before we got Dusty and Squeakie. I remember the pain of having to take Stephenie in. I'd planned to sit with her when they gave her the shot, but I simply burst into tears when I handed her over to the receptionist. I just couldn't do it. I also remember the Dickinson poem that seemed so appropriate then, just as it will be again with Squeakie.

The Bustle in a House
The Morning after Death
Is solemnest of industries
Enacted upon Earth--

The Sweeping up the Heart
And putting Love away
We shall not want to use again
Until Eternity.

Here she is in better days with her good pal Dusty. This is my favorite picture of them.