Life, Death, and the Doctor of the Hour
The day started in a way I had hoped would be 10 years from now. At around 2 am, Jerry crawled into bed and asked me if I was awake. I was. He then said, "Argyle died." How could this be? Our youngest, most exuberant, trouble-making cat. The one who probably thought his name was "Argyle No!" When Jerry has trouble sleeping he goes into the TV room, stretches out on the couch, and reads himself back to sleep. Inevitably, one, or more, cats join him. Argyle did join him, but something was very wrong. His hind legs and tail were paralyzed. He likely had a stroke. Jerry stayed with him, and it was not long before he passed away. When Jerry came back to bed we held each other as Jerry sobbed. We both then went back to the TV room so I could say goodbye to my boy. We went back to bed, held each other and cried. We did fall back asleep for a little while, and I dreamed that Argyle had not died. That it was all a mistake. It was, of course, just a dream. In the m...