Over six years ago, Chas decided to share our journey for a while. It was not a decision he entered into lightly. He conversed about it daily with Julie from the safety of the shrubs. Eventually, they reached an understanding.
He agreed to take us as we were; and we, in turn, decided we could tolerate his somewhat excessive talking.
Seemingly always alert, Chas' expression rarely changed, but it spoke volumes. Before long, we began to appreciate Chas' wisdom. We listened, and we learned, together.
When cancer claimed a leg, Chas was undaunted. He left behind his precious outdoors, and taught us about dealing with loss and change. When we came home each evening, Chas inevitably watched at the window for our return. He taught us faithfulness and gave us joy.
Later, when we discovered his serious heart issues, we were afraid lest we might lose him. He took his meds like a trooper, and taught us truths like serenity, and acceptance.
When we brought an older rescued "inside cat" to the fold, Chas welcomed him, and taught us lessons of tolerance and grace. When circumstances prompted yet another "rescue", and the fold became a bit more crowded, wise old Chas assumed the role of playmate for the lonely little kitten. We learned resilience and love.
Lately, Chas had lost interest in eating. Medicine helped for a few months, but last week, he stopped eating again and developed other complications. His vet did all she could, but on Wednesday we chose to bring him home and make him as comfortable as we could. We sat together, and comforted each other, until early Saturday morning, when we parted ways for now. Sad as was our parting, I'm pretty sure Chas was ready for the next leg of his journey. And, thanks to him, I know we're a good bit better prepared for ours.
Thanks, Chassy. We love you.