# # Goodnight Sage

Brother, I Can See Your Skull.

Brother, I Can See Your Skull. - The Coreyshead Blog

Goodnight Sage


this blog began as a section on my site called “Infinite Diarrhea” which I took down very shortly after starting it because … people were reading it. This, in turn, was causing problems in my already failing marriage …


Sage has died.

We’ve had her and her sister, Twos, since what? ’91?

We moved her outside with the other "incontinent" cats earlier this year after she reacted to the introduction to our home of Sparky, a Katrina refugee, by continually cornering her and either pissing, shitting or both on her.

For the past three months or so I noted that she has been losing weight at a steady and eventually alarming rate. I brought her back inside and tried nursing her back to health with moist food, thinking maybe she simply didn’t approve of the outside cat vittles, though they are virtually the same as what she wolfed down with gusto when living inside the house – but to no avail.

Seeing that she was only getting thinner and weaker, we took her to the vet and learned she had a mass in her stomach, an irregularly shaped liver, and only a short time to live. So true.

We found her this morning on the thick carpet of the bathroom, laid out on her side, eyes mostly shut, mouth open, legs out. She did not look as if she was comfortable when she went, probably panting. I wish I might have found the time to pet her last night but I was so busy with moving (still!) that, by the time I was able to finally sit down – around 10pm – all I could think of was my dinner! Better yet, it might have been nice to encounter her as she lay dying and been able to give her some comforting strokes or a few kind murmurs as she passed.

Sage wasn’t a great cat – she was actually rather dull – but, besides the whole Sparky calamity, she was rarely any trouble. I can’t say, in a household of 5 cats, that she will be sorely missed but I do mourn her passing, will always remember her love squints and her tender way of extending a paw to touch my face when I would cradle her in my arms and stroke her. I hope death has brought her peace from her pain.

Good night, Tager-puss.

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