A Dark Day
Today is a dark day, a very dark day. Please take a moment this afternoon at 4pm to think of Alfie. The vet will be coming to our house to help him cross the Rainbow Bridge. Mum will of course be with him and Dad will be there too via the Amazon Alexa screen they use. It’s the best they can do as Dad can’t get home at the moment. I won’t be in the room when it happens, but each of us will have chance to say our goodbyes just afterwards. None of us are coping all that well with the thought, but we do know it’s his time. Life is going to look very different in our house without him and we’re all going to need to rise to the challenge of looking after Mum. I might ask Mum if she would like to say a few words to you all tomorrow, but I’m not sure how she will be.
Alfie is spending his last days being given anything he wants. If he asks for an extra meal he can have it. If he wants what’s on Mum’s plate he can have it. He’s getting gentle kisses rather than lots of cuddles as he says he’s struggling with those. Mum would have loved to have taken him out to some of his favourite places or done some of his favourite things but he’s not up to it. She had hoped to take him out one last time in his little car, but he has said he needs that just to be a memory. He would struggle to get in and would not be comfortable.
I do think there might be steak on the menu today, but I’m not sure I shall really feel like eating it.