Today The Wife and I had our cat, Sylvia, euthanized. It's a long, complicated story but suffice to say that we tried everything we could and everything various vets recommended and it was probably past time. Sylvia was generally a quiet cat (unless she was hungry) and even though there is another cat (her sister, Emily Dickinson) and a dog in the house, tonight we feel her absence. There is an unusual stillness in the house. I was outside a few minutes ago and saw the first firefly of the season. Both of these things, seemingly unrelated and small, have convinced me of what I have long belived. Animals have souls. Sylvia's is gone from our house and our lives. I do think pets go to heaven and I like to think that Sylvia has found my grandmother and has settled in with her.
I'm sorry, Syl. I wish there had been another option. I'll miss you greeting me every morning outside the bedroom door and lining up in your spot for your share of the lunch meat when I make my lunch. I'll think of you every time I eat rice pudding. You were a good cat.