I'll watch this a few more times

I am told there are people who don't like baseball. I don't understand these people. 

There is a beautiful continuity to baseball. Little Abigail (video below) learned to love the Reds from her mom. I am a third generation Cub fan (both sides of the family). When I was 6, my favorite Cub was Ernie Banks. I never got to meet him, but I wore a Cubs helmet when I watched the games and my dad affixed a "14" to it so I could be just like Mr. Cub. I'm proud to now own my favorite grandma's Ryne Sandberg jersey, and am thrilled that I'm the one who took my nephew to his first ballgame. Today he's a 14K baseball fanatic, and yes, I take credit.

I've seen this video a dozen times. I love watching Abigail fidgeting as she watches her favorite Reds player sign her book. (God bless you, Joey.) Her little body cannot contain the excitement. 

 

We have today

My little man is old, and likely dying. It's hard to believe, because he is still so social and affectionate, still good about eating and drinking and using his box.

But Reynaldo is 17 years old. That's equivalent to 84 in people years. His body is failing him. He has arthritis and cataracts, which don't seem to bother him so they don't bother me.

He is also losing weight, despite his thyroid medication. He suffers from long-term kidney disease. And today, the vet detected a heart murmur. 

The vet and I chatted a long time about all of this. While Reynaldo is in good spirits right now, he is not well. One of these maladies will, likely, kill him. Because everything that is alive just naturally dies of something. Which sucks. Because I want him to be my little man forever.

I expressed my preference that his comfort, not his longevity, be our top priority. The vet drew blood and we'll know Monday if we need to change his treatment plan.

I hate this. Because it hurts so much. I don't want it to be happening.

But I also don't want it to interfere with the months we have left together. He's OK today. He's happy today. We have today.