I blog today with a broken heart. In fact, my hands are shaky and my knees are weak, I can’t seem to stand on my own two feet.
Some time ago, I introduced you to Elvis. As cheesy as this might sound, my family and I fell hopelessly in love with Elvis, a 19-year-old deaf, arthritic cat when, about two months ago when, for whatever reason, he left his family and came to live on our side of the street. We suspected that he suspected that his long life was coming to an end.
I pretended that Elvis came to me, the hospice lady, for comfort and end-of-life care. The reality is, I fed him, as did our next door neighbors, who also provided him with a warm bed on their front porch. We all know what animals do when you feed them. But I took Elvis on as my latest hospice patient, giving him as much food as he wanted and wrapping him in a towel when he was too confused to take cover from the rain.
Yesterday, while away on a business trip, I received a message from our neighbor that Elvis had returned home to his family, where he died. According to the note, Elvis “spent the last several nights curled up inside, comfortably on a pillow.” As with most hospice situations, and as it should be, the patient died surrounded by family.
When I get home, I will kneel at the spot under our bushes where Elvis made his temporary home and remember how he brightened my life with his sweet purr and the meow that sounded like a duck quacking.
I can only hope that, wherever animals go when they die, Elvis lives on in his own Graceland.
Godspeed, Elvis. Love ya, buddy.
Word Nymph 
Oh, Monica. My heart aches. I know what this feels like.
Micaela use to say when she was small “I hope he is with kitty Jesus”.
Lots of tear have been shed over the passing of Elvis. Many days when I would get home from work, Elvis would greet me by walking up the sidewalk growling like only Elvis could do. He did this to allow me to stoop down and scratch his head, an act that brought both of us comfort. Also, our cats, Ricky and Lucy, indoor cats, generally freak when they see other animals. Not so with Elvis. With Elvis on the outside of our glass storm door, Ricky and Lucy on the inside, they would sit and communicate as cats do. Elvis was very special.
My eyes are leaking as I write this. Farewell sweet Elvis and thank you for bringing happiness and love to my dear friends.
I’m so sorry to hear that. I only met him once, but he was quite the character. Weeping for him, too.
Monica, I am so sorry. You told me so much about him and I felt like I knew him.
I had grown quite attached to Our Elvis, and am so sorry to hear of your loss. I never had the pleasure of meeting him, but your gift of words made me feel I knew him. Thank you.
In a lighter vein, I must confess I am comforted by the thought of your loving concern. As I continue to add to my own years, I have thought it over and have decided that you may call ME Elvis, because I probably won’t know the difference anyway. You are such a wonderful and loving caregiver, and I know that Elvis was the happy beneficiary.
For a couple of years now, we’ve been feeding a neighborhood semi-feral cat cat named Rocky. When he doesn’t show up, especially if it’s been stormy or cold, I worry about him. I know how attached you can get to these little critters, and I feel your sorrow at Elvis’s passing. At least he made his final exit in a comfortable setting. That’s all any of us could hope for. Love, Alyson
So sorry to hear it Monica and Marty, that coming home greeting becomes such a part of the day.
What a loving tribute your blog has been to his life. Animals are so pure and open, it is quite an honor to feel part of their ‘inner circle’. My heart aches for your loss, and that of the neighborhood, but how wonderful that he gave you a chance to get to know him.