I tried not to smile, and paid the bill—he protested, but I took full advantage of his weakened state.
“Do you want to come with me?” he said. “She’d love to see you.”
I didn’t even consider it. “No thank you, not today, Raymond,” I said.
Glen will have had a bowel movement by now, and I don’t like to leave her feces in the tray for more than an hour or two,
in case she needs to urinate again afterward.”
Raymond stood up quickly. “Just nipping to the Gents,” he said.
I bought some cat food for Glen on the way home. The thing about Glen is that, despite her offhand manner, she loves me.
I know she’s only a cat. But it’s still love; animals, people.
It’s unconditional, and it’s both the easiest and the hardest thing in the world.
Sometimes, after counseling sessions, I desperately wanted to buy vodka, lots of it, take it home and drink it down, but in the end I never did.
I couldn’t, for lots of reasons, one of which was that if I wasn’t fit to, then who would feed Glen?
She isn’t able to take care of herself. She needs me. It isn’t annoying, her need—it isn’t a burden. It’s a privilege.
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