Louie's house

As I write this, Lou-Lou is tucked into the little house a friend made to shelter him from the activities in my studio. All day he has alternated between the warmer under the rug and his house. This morning, he made an extraordinary effort to get outside and spend some time in one of the cat condos.

His hind legs have nearly lost their function. It was the first morning he didn't greet me at the door to the kitchen. For the past month, I've been feeding Puffer and Louie first. I moved Puff's dish to my sitting room and Louie took over the mat in the kitchen. He was very polite but certain about his separate feeding place and Puff gave way with grace.

He eventually wobbled into the kitchen, but nothing but a few sips of water tempted the body that is in its final shut-down.

Many animals, especially cats, choose to go off into hiding outside when it is close to their passage. The last two, Bonsai and Little Little Spot, have died indoors in the presence of humans. I think Lou is comfortable inside. He may, however, slip away when I am not there. This is so far a very quiet passage.

I wish I knew what I know to be true--we are everywhere, so there is no place to go or leave when the form dissolves through death. I wish I knew it in my bones. I think it would help the grief that comes over me in agonizing waves. The grief very well might still come, but perhaps it wouldn't leave me feeling so terribly bereft or lonely.

I long for the understanding of loneliness that Hafiz expresses: "...what is more alone than God?" It is, he says, "the quintessence of Loneliness."

Louie appears to me to have no longing, no resistance, no holding back. When I asked Sharon if his meows were asking for something I didn't know to give, she replied, "His small sweet meows are tender and loving....this is the gift of his process...."

Before Bonsai died, she asked through Sharon for a list of tasks I would like her to do on the other side. She said it was her way of packing her bag to go. Today, I offered some tasks to Louie. His ears perked up when I went through the list. I included a request for help to see through this cloud that keeps me from knowing non-separateness fully.

Soon, Louie will need neither the house of his body nor the constructions we have made for him to crawl into. I will keep his little indoor house for the others who also like resting in it and for a reminder of Louie's sweet countenance and how he graced my life for nearly a year. I will miss his small undemanding meow and his willingness to have his silky coat petted. I will for some time look for him at the kitchen door in the morning and grieve that he is not there and celebrate that he once was. I trust his wisdom in ease of coming and going is a transmission that will eventually come clear for me.

Fly away, dear boy, over the rainbow bridge and have a grand time.