“Matthew” the kitty was euthanized Monday morning around 9:15am; he was 19-years old. I’d been called to the EXbf’s condo Sunday night to assess the declining health situation; though it was painful to witness the labored breathing and obvious discomfort I at least captured one last hour with the best cat ever. I lay prone on the hallway floor for a few moments to make sure Matthew knew I’d come back — that I’d not forgotten, his noble presence in my life.

Those non-pet owner types won’t ever get this type of commentary because they’ve not experienced the unconditional love a pet brings into one’s everyday life. For the record Matthew was a most excellent cat. He defined the very best years of my long-gone 25+ year partnership. I’ll skip any more fond recollections because I frankly can’t write three sentences regarding his death that doesn’t spiral me further into heartache. I’ll leave it at this: I didn’t cry at my own father’s funeral. But then again he wasn’t a man who knew much about “unconditional love.”

Advertisement