The End of Things

The cat was asleep on the chair behind her.  She could hear him breathing. Like a baby, small sounds, soft and slightly pitiful in the silence of the room. He was growing old, his movements slower these days; she could see a degree of stiffness in the careful way he moved.
She caught him staring at her sometimes, as if she held the answers to all his questions. But she was near the end too and had no answers, no way to know who would go first or when.
Is this what happens to everything as they grow old? Do they see the end of things everywhere they look?These days she looks at growing things, and where she once felt joy in their creation, now all she sees is the futility of it all. Just a series of small steps, leading ultimately to nothing.
She wishes he would wake up and stop making that plaintiff sound, but he seems to be getting louder, filling her heart with more sadness than it can possibly hold.
She wonders if he is ready to go, if he is finished with this world, pleased to be done with it. She used to think she was, but now, when it is inevitable, she is not sure any more…


© 2015 Jaye Marie