You'll have the indulge the old chicken a night, or maybe two, off. My old cat Figaro, pushing 19 years, is on his last paws. He's in the end stage of renal failure and clearly in his last days. This cat, who would once take off the top of your fingers if you dangled a bit of bacon within a 10 feet parameter, now won't eat a morsel. He's incontinent, he can barely stand and his lovely eyes are hollow. Even he knows the gig is up, but he's been humoring me (I think) for the past few days. I'm taking him to the vet tomorrow for what is clearly his last visit ever. I don't do the "putting the animals to sleep" thing well and I confess, I am not doing well tonight. I'm dreadfully blue. I suppose there is consolation in knowing he had a good long life with good health throughout. He moved across country three times. He frolicked for many summers in the sun. Chased a lot of birds and mice and chipmunks. Coughed up his share of hairballs. I guess we all should be so lucky.

So give me a day, patient readers (all five of you), and I'll be right as rain.