Moment to Moment

We have a sick cat. If he was human, he’d be moaning and groaning and talking about how his tummy (or wherever) hurts, and that he’ll never feel good again. He’d be afraid of how he feels, and what’s going to happen. Worry worry worry.

So what is he doing?

He’s laying on our bed, stretched out a bit because that’s probably more comfortable. And when I pet him, he purrs. He looks at me with his big, green, grateful eyes. For him, it’s all about right now.

Not next week. Not tomorrow, when we’re taking him to the vet to be put to sleep because he is VERY sick. It’s about right now. “Oh, she’s petting me and it feels so good. I will purr.”

When I walk away, he puts his head back down and lets himself drift. I can see it. His body is here, but I think the essence of Lynkx is starting to transition elsewhere. It’s all in the moment. 

Yesterday, he was strong enough to go outside and lay in the warmth and the shade, breathing in all the good smells. Today, not so much. But he doesn’t seem upset by that. It’s the way things are right now. The bed feels nice too.

The deck and the bushes are so fine

Animals are so good at being in the moment. He’s not thinking about the fact that his life as he knows it now is going to end. He’s focused on the soft blanket under him, the comfortable bed, the fact that stretching out feels better than being curled up.

Maybe humans who have reached this stage of an illness do the same thing; I don’t have any experience with that. I do know that humans in general tend to look to the future and dwell on the past. They don’t spend much time right here, right now. But right here, right now is when life is happening.

I think it was John Lennon who sang “Life is what happens to you while you’re making other plans.” It’s a lyric from a song he wrote for his son. It means pay attention. This is where it’s all happening, Life - not some time down the road.

Brothers from different mothers (this time around)

My husband and I, being human, are looking at the future, when we’ll take Lynkx to the vet and he’ll breathe his last breath. He’s a great cat. We love him dearly. We’re bringing along his friend Jackson because they are soul brothers, and have each been with us for several of their kitty lifetimes. Will it be easier for Jackson if he experiences Lynkx’s transition? Common knowledge seems to dictate that it will. He’ll be in the moment with his bro, not looking for him when we come home with an empty carrier.

Maybe we should take a page from Lynkx’s book of Life. 

Enjoy the warm blanket. Stretch out. Purr. Right here. Right now.