Khatru died yesterday, aged 17 years, 4 months, and 12
days. It was a rather beautiful death. I got to wake up with her beside me
(she’s been sleeping with me, snuggled against my chest, for about the past
month because her body could no longer keep her warm). She was still alive but
her body seemed to be completely paralyzed. Even so, her eyes through very
subtle shifts of focus were responding to everything I said. I talked to her
and stroked and kissed her for about half an hour, then told her I was getting up
to fill her hot water bottle. When I got back a minute or so later her head was
torqued back and she wasn’t breathing. She spasmed a few times and her heart
stopped beating a few minutes later. It almost seems like she waited for me to
wake up so I could say good-bye to her.
We had to borrow John’s mattock so we could dig a hole
in the frozen ground. It wasn’t easy. Collin and I tag-teamed to get it done.
It seems very strange without her here. I spent more
years with her than anyone else in my life except Mom and Dad—and with them it
was only a few months longer. So the energy shifts yet again in the house.
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