My calico kitty is in the hospital tonight.
For the second time in 16 years (the first and only was during her spay when she was a kitten) she is spending the night away from home. Tonight, she won’t be curled on my lap while we watch TV, or snuggled into my shoulder, her head under my chin, purring as I fall asleep.
And the outlook isn’t good. We’re experiencing a catastrophic problem. It isn’t a question of if, but a question of when.
But, you know what? It’s never a question of if.
It’s always a question of when.
For each and every one of us, every living thing, it’s always a question of when.
We forget that so easily; the when part.
It’s so easy to become complacent. Time slips by, unnoticed. Then suddenly, I looked up and a lifetime had passed. Sixteen years is a long life for a kitty, but had you asked me last week, I would’ve said 20 years was old for a kitty. 16 years was still young. At 16 there was still plenty of time for cuddles and snuggles and purrs.
It’s the same with people.
We look at our children and, almost without thinking, we wish away the years.
I wish she was potty trained already!
I wish she could drive herself to practice!
When is she going to move out?
We look at our parents and tell ourselves 60, 70, 80 years isn’t old.
We look at our own reflections and tell ourselves 50 is the new 30. Plenty of time.
But that’s not really true, is it? The idea of plenty of time.
Life is precious and finite. The minutes tick by while we’re busy being busy, taking it for granted.
The slobbery toddler kisses.
The frail hugs of elderly parents.
The cuddles and purrs that have lasted a lifetime until, one day, that lifetime is through.
Let’s be grateful for what we have while we have it.
The sands of time wait for no man, woman, or cat.
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