The Kinsella's beloved cat, Drexel(he was named after Drexel Blvd, a street in Chicago where he was found), died yesterday, and I am not too proud to say I cried my eyes out along with my 19 year old son and wife. Drexel was part of our family for nearly 14 years, and we have many, many memories of him associated with our sons' growing up years and our family life. He was especially Ethan's special friend, and he probably cried more than any of us. Drexel, who we called our mountain lion, once weighed nearly 30 pounds; he had dwindled to nearly 5 pounds, and we kept him with us until the last day his skeleton like body could walk or bleet for his special treats. Yesterday, he literally dragged himself to the heating register in our kitchen and just sprawled out. It was 5 A.M. when I found him, and he always, always looked up to me for his morning ritual of water filled just to the top of the bowl, his regular WD cat food filled just to the top, and of course his call for his special "Pounce" treats. He always liked at least three, and we would bleet(yes bleet like a sheep) even in his last days until he got them.
Yesterday, he could not even ask for that. He could not raise himself up. He could not eat or drink, just look up at us with sad eyes. We knew it was time to call the Vet; my wife, Ethan, and I took him down the street, Ethan holding him in a blanket.
We brought him into the room where the vet administered the drug that would put him to sleep forever. There were more tears as all of us held his body until his last breath.
This was sad for us, but how much sadder, those humans all around us in Chicago who perish without an adequate witness of the gospel.
This is a theme I will share in another post for today.
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