Today was a typically grey Fiordland day. Max died this morning. He came out of his kennel when I called before peeing on the veranda. Odd I thought. Bad dog I said; then because he looked so dejected, changed my tone. Time for a walk? He died outside the house a few hours later.
Friday 29th June
I wonder when one cannot control grief if one develops a strong belief in the hereafter. This has been my own experience. I like to think a soul is reborn as a continuum of birth and rebirth. Death makes you think about life too. Max had excellent owners. He must have had a good life in these beautiful surroundings. It was a relief not to break the news. The owners were even concerned for my feelings. I went upstairs after the call. Don’t die Maddy, please don’t die I murmured lying on the carpet stroking her thin elderly body as tears fell. She purred contentedly. Although I have been working for some time on not taking on the feelings of others, I nonetheless felt residual unresolved guilt.
Dear God
Thank you for the warm fire on cold nights. Thank you for the man who chopped the wood, the comfort of cats, supportive neighbours, the most brilliantly organised house I have ever lived in, rainy days, good books, DVDs and videos. Thank you for a comfortable clean bed, well stocked cupboards, protection from storms, magnificent views, phone and…
