Schrödinger’s Cat

Slow goodbyes and why they’re not

I’ve always loved this photo of Simon, taken in the wee small hours of the morning when we were the only beasts in our house awake.

Simon is, most certainly, dying.

I want to believe he’s dying in the same way we all are. Slowly, with no clear end in sight beyond the eventual certainty of dust and ashes.

But I’m steeling myself for the likelihood that we are looking at something more accelerated. Of all of the things the emergency vet told us might have…