Lucifer

The vet just called to tell me Lucifer is in the early stages of kidney failure. Early, so he doesn’t need intravenous fluids yet, and they don’t want to switch his diet because they don’t want the diabetes to come back.

He might live a few more years, but it’s incurable and fatal.

You can probably imagine, I’m not dealing very well. He’s 13.5 so I know he’s not going to live forever, but… obviously a concrete diagnosis is different.

He’s my best friend. He wakes up with me in the morning and he greets me with a hug as soon as I walk in the door at night. He climbs into bed next to me and snuggles, then he sleeps in the bed next to me. He presses his forehead to me and just purrs. I look at him and know exactly what he’s thinking, and know that he knows exactly what I’m thinking. I rescued his mother; I felt him kicking in the womb; I watched his birth; I held him when he was less than a day old; I watched him learn to crawl and walk and eat and play. I love him more than anything. I was 15 when he was born; we grew up and grew together; I’ll never have a bond like this with anyone for the rest of my life. I can’t imagine living without him.

Originally published at rusty-halo.com. You can comment here or there.