On the first he did not come to me when I called him from the porch, and Keith found him curled in a deck chair, and carried him in. Two days at Dr. Tom's that week found only that he had a virus, and he was sent home with medication. He lost weight and stopped eating, and finally, drinking. The last night he dragged himself up between us, and gave two short yowls... when I turned the light on, I thought he was gone. I stroked him and talked to him, and cried. Then, at five, he dragged himself off the bed. I left work that morning and came home to take him back to Dr. Tom, where I held him until he went to sleep peacefully.
He was the last of my beloved pets from my "old" pre-married life, at my old farm. They are all gone now, Petey, Ashley, Libby, Stealth, the Elmos, Nicholas the Third and now Nicholas the Fourth. All the chickens and ducks that lived happily there, and the gardens and lovely rolling meadow in the pasture. He is buried here under Beau's tree in the pasture, in a little red box, and the coyotes won't be able to find him. He can look down on the beautiful ponds at the foot of the pasture, and in the summer the mulberry tree will shade him. We are going to plant wildflowers on his resting place, but his real resting place is in my heart.