Alfred Noir has died. He was the bravest cat we’ve ever known.
He left us in the best way possible: happy and free of misery. Just before the vet arrived, he'd eaten a bunch and drank a bunch and was in a good mood. We played ribbon with him a lot and he was tired, a good tired, and was hankering for a nap. I could not have engineered a better day or a better time.
The vet gave him the sedative first and he fell asleep sitting on the window sill, smelling all the spring smells on this bright sunny day.
It's the best way any of our cats have ever died. At home, comfortable, peaceful, without even the slightest stress.
After Alfred was carried away by the vet for cremation, I was alone and the room was quiet. I thought about him some more and then closed the window. He had a good life—and a good death.
