There is a scene in Brideshead Revisited where Sebastian takes Charles to see his Nanny. She is old now and has a room on the top floor of the mansion. She spends her time sitting in her room surrounded by photos of the children she raised. She gives them tea when they come to visit.
I never saw her as sad, a bit lonely maybe, but mostly tired and content.
That’s how I think of Minnie as she sits on the front porch.
She seems to be declining quickly, but then rebounds and eats some food, mostly in the morning.
Yesterday she made her way down the stars and slept under the bushy peonies or under the porch. Since last night she hasn’t left the porch but sleeps in the cat house I put there for her or by the front steps in the sun.
I think she feels as safe in the cat house as she does under the porch. It’s dark and soft in there. I’m glad she can be outside, which she prefers this time of year. She shows no sign of wanting to come into the house.
Jon has written about Minnie in the past few days and our decisions about how we wish her to be able to live the rest of her life. I’ve had more than one cat leave when she was ready to die. It’s what so many of them do. And as sad as it is, it’s also one of the things I love about them.
Minnie was born feral, she survived the move from old Bedlam Farm to our new home. She survived an animal attack that left her with three legs. She’s a smart cat, a skilled hunter, and can also be very sweet.
And now, at this point in her life, she’s just where she wants to be, living the way she always has. Finding the most comfortable and safe place to spend her days on and under the front porch.
