I Speak Meow

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I recently rummaged up this photo of Princess, my eighteen year-old cat. Boy, she looked grumpy, yet I hadn’t noticed between all the nose kisses, mouse plays, cat-post scratching and napping she loved to do.

Three weeks ago, her mews told me it was time to see the vet. Before going, I made a quick call to Jesus hoping for a divine intervention. It didn’t happen. Instead, I recalled my father saying that good people don’t let animals suffer.¬†So Princess and I drove off to visit the vet.

I told the vet how her meows had changed, and how we had been best buddies for so long.

“Knowing love, especially for so long, is a blessing,” the vet assured me. “But sometimes letting go can be the kindest gift of all.”

And so, on that advice, I let my Princess move-on and ended her suffering that the kidney failure had caused.

She is in a better place, and I am forever grateful that for many years, I spoke meow.