My neighbor is dying.
His fight has been a valiant one.
He's been in hospice for a few days.
His wife has not left his side.
Every time he's been in the hospital she's spent the night on one of those god awful hospital couches.
George was in a rehab place for close to 6 months.
Doris stayed with him the whole time except for running home to take a quick shower.
Sweetie and I have been taking care of Whiskers - George's cat.
A great big fluff ball.
He knows when the door opens to come out, meow, plop down on his back and present his tummy for a rub.
I learned early on, that if I rubbed the wrong spot, teeth and claws would come out.
A cat's way of saying, please don't touch me there.
Before George got sick this last time, he made a few trips home to visit Whiskers.
He'd sit in the car and Doris would put Whiskers on his lap.
They had a lot of catching up to do.
I'd like to take Whiskers over to George.
I'm not sure George is even awake enough to know.
And Whiskers hates being take anywhere.
So I will sit with the cat tomorrow, sit on the floor, and risk brushing him.
And I'll visit George to say goodbye.
May these final hours and days be an easy transition for them.