Cartouche is getting old

My feet are warm, that’s peculiar, when it gets colder outside they usually are cold. Maybe because of the breathing exercises I did.
I thought of Cartouche the cat today, slipping away quietly, so old, almost twenty, so skinny, she barely has any power left in her behind, falling over most of the time, deaf, smelly, a wound that won’t heal anymore. She purs softly when you touch her, she sleeps all day on the radiator, she can shout unbearably loud. But she eats still and drinks and now and then plays a bit the old lady.
And then I feel quilty suddenly, I left…
She always crawled on my lap, I cuddled her, fed her, made her tame, I never rejected her. And then I left.
She misses you he said, yes I know, I also miss her and I miss you I think, I cry.
It’s not a lifetime we shared, but we shared. We shared in eight years a lot of people passing away, happiness, love, tears, laughter, intimicy, a baby which didn’t make it, a house, holidays, hard words, sex, a lot of miles, art, food, friendship, where did it go wrong?

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