Into darkness

I’ve lived alone for a decade because I tend to break my word. That’s a droll way to describe betrayals.

But I’m not exactly by myself.

I rescue older cats from the Humane Society. No kittenish hijinks from these seniors. Each packs a fully established personality. I’ve had as many as three at a time, a total of seven in 10 years.

Their veterinary costs are astronomical, and heartbreak comes much faster. They claw their way into your heart.

Pirate arrived two years ago. A tuxedoed Maine Coon mix, his shaggy winter coat brushed the carpet. I didn’t realize his left eye was blind, and glaucoma dimmed the right.

Pirate’s eyes prevent further rescues. It isn’t fair to blind-side him with another cat. His growing tentativeness brings tears. Earlier this year, we moved so he could learn a new layout before his eyesight completely goes.

As I swore to so many times before, I’ll stay with him through the darkness and into the light. And I mean it.

I don’t know why that’s so much harder to do with humans.