Saturday, March 20, 2010


My mum has gone to Pierrepont to fetch Michelle back from Ellel.  She has brought Jenny to me for the day as she is too ill to be left on her on.  I put a glass of mineral water on the table for her and she is taking frequent sips of it.  She is crouching and her coat is 'staring' and her weight loss is visible.  Mum was in tears as she left.  It is clear that Jen hasn't got long and its tearing her to pieces.

And Sean today has gone to see an old friend who is terminally ill, so it seems we are all heartsore about impending ending of life amongst those we hold dear.  

I love this poem about an elderly cat in winter.  I only found out today that it was written by Gavin Ewart:

I want him to have another living summer,

to lie in the sun and enjoy the douceur de vivre –

because the sun, like golden rum in a rummer,

is what makes an idle cat un tout petit peu ivre –

I want him to lie stretched out, contented,

revelling in the heat, his fur all dry and warm,

an Old Age Pensioner, retired, resented

by no one, and happinesses in a beelike swarm

to settle on him – postponed for another season

that last fateful journey to the vet

from which there is no return (and age the reason),

which must soon come – as I cannot forget.

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