Every Moment was Radiant & Full.

The owner made it home last night (see previous post). My little furry, four-legged friend was still (barely) with the living. Hanging by a thread.

I am "off the ranch" this morning, back at my own place. Yesterday, was a long day. It was like I was living and dying with every breath from my little friend, the poor guy was laboring to breathe. Each breath seemed like an effort of will.

The will to live is strong. Despite cancer, despite weakness, despite no ability to take in and hold down food. It was a sunny beautiful day. My furry friend made it out to the backyard a few times. I was surprised he had enough strength to stand up, to walk to the door, to go down the stairs into the yard. It all seemed impossible.

We sat in the back yard together. Snow was melting. The blazing sun provided a surprising warmth. Nearly 50 degrees on a February afternoon. Uncommon. Welcome. Blue skies, a mild breeze, patches of snow, patches of green, trees swaying. Life.

My friend sat in the snow. Cooling down his body. Everything seemed so illuminated, definitive, important. Each action. Knowing that each step, each breath could be the last; time slowed down. Every moment was radiant and full.

I don't know if he made it to this morning. I hope to hear one way or the other a bit later today. I am exhausted. Stunned. I had a difficult night sleeping. Lots of tossing and turning. I had a vivid dream that my buddy died. This morning I am hollow. Quiet. Waiting.

A.M. Soundtrack - "Ethiopiques - Volume 4" - Ethio Jazz & Musique Instrumentale, (1969-1974). First heard this one in Jim Jarmusch's film with Bill Murray "Broken Flowers." (2005). Gorgeous. Moody. Swings a bit, a loose, easy vibe. Music for the Silent Witnesses.