Murphy, please don't come to call.

Last night, every step he took seemed tortured.

His will to live was limited to walking to his glass of water.

When he reached his destination, he stared, wondering, how he'd find the strength to lean down, stick his tongue out and lap it up.

It was too much energy to ask for.  This body is imparting with it's last breaths of a journey.

His head droops, his neck barely having enough force to hold it up.  His eyes are only half open, too drowsy to even think of giving the mind melting stare to the humans who inhabit his space.

There was no demanding for food yester-eve.

I touched him with sweet support.  I laid my hand on his emptying body.  His bones protrude through his usually soft muscles.

i caress him with comfort, but i know that this pampering is really a way to try to tell him he's free to go in peace.

He took weak steps, back across the couch, into the familiar corner that is set up as a cozy spot for warmth.

Here he sleeps, his body rests, in hopes that he will heal.  We all see it.

Time is a theif.

I removed his collar to give him room to be the free spirit he will soon exist as.  He doesn't need to take it where he's going.

Besides, we don't allow him to leave the house anymore, lest he allow a pillow of nature to be his final secret resting place.

No, we need to say goodbye with our own closure.  A selfish act that will allow us to sleep with knowing that we were there to see him off to his next venture.

If he were to leave and grant nature to see him off for the farewell, our minds would slip into horrid thoughts of what might have happened.

Coyote?

Car?

Freezing weather?

Any of these could be possibilities, even if we already know what the reason for his passing would be.

I texted my love to speak of Mr. Moustache's weakness, and how it is breaking my heart.

Papi asked me to remove his collar.

"I already did 10 minutes ago, boo.  I'm with you."

we truly do share the same thoughts

Tears fell.

Our wish is that he just goes calmly in his sleep, but we both know that this adamant cat will not lie down an let natural history take place.  He's a stubborn fighter.

My love has told him that it's ok to go, verbally and spiritually.

Then comes this morning.

He's peppy walking quickly for food and eating.  There was even a meow of sorts.  He's being his normal self, asking for another day.

He even was the Bathroom Buddy this morning!

Another day with a cat being a cat, which will inevitably lead to an evening of tears.

One more day with Goat-ee Kitt-ee.

Here comes the weekend, where there is no vet open except the million dollar emergency.

If Murphy's Law is in place, it will be this weekend that we need to bring him in for a farewell.

That Murphy is an expensive bastard.