Color him indulged

I now keep two grocery delivery boxes in my living room. Reynaldo likes the one on the left (limes) for sleeping and the newer one (apples) for observing me as I move about the room.

He doesn't play with toys or Connie Cat anymore.* He doesn't look out the window for squirrels and birds anymore. He moves from perch to perch throughout the day. These include:

•  My dining room table, where I work. He loves to tuck himself as close to the computer as he can get.

•  The top shelf of the kitty condo, next to the dining room table. 

•  The boxes in the living room.

He no longer spends time in the bathroom (he used to loved walking along the ledge of the tub, having adventures between the shower curtain and liner) or the bedroom, unless he wants to cuddle with me in the morning. 

He is tired. He is dying.

But he also seems happy. He loves his food, he loves being carried and when I rub his head. In the morning, he opens and closes his paws in delight as he parks himself beside me, happy I'm (finally) awake.  

I am watching him closely. When it begins to seem that he is in pain, or that little in life brings him joy, I will put him to sleep.

In the 70 days since I learned about his heart trouble, and have tried to come to grips with the fact he will never get better, I have noticed decline but it's nothing precipitous so far. 

I went through this six years ago when beloved Big Tub of Guts, Joey, died. There is much to be learned about life as it ebbs away. I want to savor every moment with Reynaldo, and learn all he has to teach me.

*I can tell she misses him. He really has no interest in her anymore at all.