Goodbye

This morning when I came out into the living room to put on my shoes and socks, a familiar sensation greeted my ankles, my "old man" rubbed my ankles to tell me good morning. I have seen you getting weak and sick old man, and I think I knew that today would be our last together, but I didn't allow that to come to the front of my thoughts, since I would now know how to handle it. I have never dealt with grief particularly elegantly.

I went to work, and my wife took you to the vet, where I desperately hoped they could fix you. They couldn't. Next to the emergency hospital, where they said it would be thousands of dollars and no guarantee that you would make it. Because she had my two little boys with her, she couldn't stay with you while you were put down. I am so sorry. I should have been there for you. I was the one who picked you out of the pet store when the salesgirl asked "Would you like to see a kitty?" when all I was doing was wandering through a pet store, without any plan of getting a pet. You were there for me. College. "Bachelorhood." Marriage. Children. I wasn't there for you. I wasn't there for you. I'm so sorry. I pray that you are in a better place, free of pain. I could see that you were laboring to breathe, yet you never failed to greet me in the morning. Tomorrow morning that will all change. I won't get that familiar rub on the ankles anymore. I miss you old friend, and I hope that you understand why I wasn't there. I hope you will, and I hope you can forgive me, because I don't know if I can forgive myself. It was a terrific fourteen years. I was hoping for more. Rest well my friend, and if there is any justice, someday I will be able to explain myself in person.