On a vigil here - my old cat Basil is in a bad way. He could die at any time - could be another three months, could be tonight. His breathing is labored, he's weak, not moving much, and yet he still wants company, still wants affection. It's a bad sign when they disappear - they usually go off alone to die.
So, now we wait, and wait, and if needs be we wait some more. This kind of waiting is itself a kind of mourning...
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