Mandy, our 20-something year-old cat, died in my wife’s arms this evening.
We knew she was going; she hadn’t eaten in a week, and was barely able to lift her head today. Yet for some reason my wife (the chaplain and nurse) decided to pick her up and hold her, and 15 minutes later the cat was gone.
Eerie, but touching. My wife was also present at her father’s and mother’s deaths, 11 years apart, at the hospital. We knew that they appreciated her presence. As for the cat, I think Mandy was holding out for my wife to hold her one last time.
I hope my wife is there when it’s my turn.