pWdumaNjA-6CEEBhRoD5euxNETs When All This Actual Life Played Out: The last of them

17 July 2017

The last of them


Olivier (?-15 July 2017)
8 September 2011

I was unloading the groceries from the back of my car this morning when my elderly neighbor drove up. She asked how I was, and I knew already what she'd come to tell me. And sure enough, she said that Olivier died on Saturday.

It used to be the three of them: Max, who lived across the street and died of cancer in 2009, Milton and Olivier. The End of the Cul-de-Sac Boys. So weird that they all died of cancer, though Milton could have just as easily been taken by his bowel obstruction and complications, or Olivier by his run in with the coyote. And both Milton and Olivier lived to ripe old ages. None of us knew exactly how old Olivier was but the first photo I have of him was taken in 2003, and we knew he was about a year old when he came to live on my front porch one cold and wet winter. So he was near Milton's age.

"He liked you," E. said to me, after she'd imparted the news.

"Well, I used to feed him," I laughed. But it was funny. After his last surgery, they invited me in to see him, and he crawled over to me, purring and asking to be petted.

Poor little beast. I will miss seeing him skulking around. I will miss the way he came running to say hello if he saw the daughter or me. I will miss the way he used to walk his people. I will miss his presence at parties. I will miss his people standing in the doorway, calling for him at night.

I will miss him.

And I expect Milton was there, on the other side of The Rainbow Bridge, waiting to whack Olivier when he arrived, while Max stood at a safe distance and watched.

Tech stuff: Taken with my Nikon D40.
For the feed reader folk (because you don't see this on the blog sidebar): Talk to me: OutOfTh3Kitchen at gmail dot com. For additional information on this site's cookie usage, go here.

No comments: