I’m in no mood to type much about it, except to say that the cat I’ve had since I was 12 is clearly injured (probably a spinal injury after getting his claw stuck in the bed spread and falling off the bed) and in need of intensive nursing.
He’s 17 now. I don’t know how much time we have left. I’ll be devoting the next few days to giving him as much supporting care as I can but the day I’ve feared may be close at hand.
I always felt guilty for leaving him while I was in London, Las Vegas, and Little Rock. I wanted to bring him with me to London and I was so afraid I’d lose him while I was away. I finally got him back in 2010 and the last four years have been mostly trouble free for him.
All prayers, thoughts, good vibes, and votives for his recovery are much appreciated, though at his age I can’t hold it against him if he decides it’s time to cross the divide.