The price we pay for love
Warning: death and dying are covered in this blog. Please look after yourself and those around you. If you need help, free text or call 1737 anytime within Aotearoa/New Zealand. It’s a balmy summer afternoon, and I’m heading to my friends for dinner, where Korean Chicken will salve my growing hunger. Fur Elise starts to play gently on my phone, the tune a memory of the days I had an old piano. My son is calling, distraught, an accident with the cat, an injury, the vet at Carrington. Cursing at insolent drivers and praying for green lights, I arrive, forgetting to scan in, rapidly hugging an unexpected friend in the waiting room who has her own tragedy to deal with tomorrow. I stroke Thunder, the diminutive Co-share Cat, who is lying peacefully in a box. My son, his friends, me - we weep. Deep belly weeps, blue eyes stained with tears, sobbing from the soul. Later, I watch them. Sam’s hands are bandaged, the wounds Thundy inflicted in fear and agony now treated with a...