The message was from July 6th. Perhaps I shouldn’t have listened to it, but I couldn’t help myself. It was from the veterinarian, telling me to stop the thyroid medication my cat, Dickens, had just started, in case that was why he was so sick.
I remembered that call. I was still hopeful the day I got that message. I didn’t know the thyroid meds had sent my beloved boy into a downward spiral, revealing the cancer that no one knew he had. Dickens was gone four days later.
Then there was the label on my front door, telling responders to be sure and look for four cats in case of an emergency. I still can’t bring myself to change that number to three.
And finally, my nail kit – what could be more mundane? But it wasn’t to Dickens. All those emery boards and implements were like catnip to my boy. He’d always come over and nose around for the nail buffer, picking it up in his mouth with a look that said I didn’t have to worry about cooking dinner – he’d snagged something special for me and his sisters!
We often don’t know that we’re going to lose someone special to us. I guess that’s a good reminder to enjoy all those sweet, simple little everyday moments with our loved ones, just in case our journeys with them come to an unexpected end.
I hope the last time Dickens grabbed that nail buffer I told him how much I appreciated his hunting prowess. After all, his sisters and I depended on him to keep us fed and happy.
Well done, Dickens.