When my friend Marie's cat was approaching death she asked me to speak to the cat and easy its troubles. I did not want to do this, it seemed like an odd request, and I had never seen the cat before so I did not think there was anything that I could do for it. Apparently it had lived for several years in a blanketed box in Marie's bedroom, and it rarely even stood up except to do what was necessary.
Marie showed me the cat and I was shocked and touched by its disabilities. Several years ago it had been run over by a car but managed to live with its face crushed, its jaw set askew, and some of its legs had healed crookedly. Now it was finally dying and it did indeed seem frantic and desperate to escape its fate. It kept trying to pull itself out of the box and flailing about in frustration.
I sat down on the floor with Marie's cat before me, and touched it between the ears. I gave it tiny, slow strokes as if I were its mother giving it a caress. I spoke to it low, slow, and sadly. I told it how sorry I was to see it in such distress, that I could feel its fear and pain, and I gave my sorrowful heart to it. Marie's cat became quiet. I told Marie's cat that I could see how at one time it had been a beautiful cat. I lied firmly and with conviction as it was the most ordinary of gray striped tabby cats. I told Marie's cat how happy Marie had been to have it as a pet, and Marie who had sat down on the floor behind me said, yes, yes, that was true. I told Marie's cat that its pain and fear was too much for it to bear, and now it was time to let go. I told Marie's cat that better things, much, much better things were on the other side of life for it. I hoped that I told the truth. Marie's cat drowsed.
Marie told me that her cat naturally passed away a day or so later, she thanked me for helping her cat pass. I accept that.
Caption: I helped Marie's Cat Pass
by Annmarie Throckmorton 2019