Once Upon a Twilight, the Cat Departed
The cat, aging and weakened by organ failure, resided in a hospital, barely clinging to life with the help of medical instruments. After witnessing the cat endure a period of excruciating suffering, the owner finally made the heart-wrenching decision to sign the euthanasia agreement.
On the day of departure, the cat slept in its favorite cozy spot, with its most beloved food placed before it. The cat thought it must have recovered, anticipating the return to its owner's loving home.
However, the cat's owner was absent. Overwhelmed by the impending events, she sat alone in the hospital corridor, weeping inconsolably.
The cat's departure was not painful. The evening sun that day shone brilliantly, its red hues resembling burning blood at the very core. The cat drifted into a deep slumber within this warm palette, only to awaken to a world unfamiliar—a realm where the angel stood by, gazing upon the cat's physical form and soul with infinite tenderness and compassion.
"I have come to take you away," the angel spoke softly.
The cat finally realized it had passed away.
The angel seemed to glimpse the cat's thoughts. "Your owner did not abandon you; she simply didn't want you to suffer any longer," the angel conveyed.
The cat remained silent.
"Let's go," the angel said, "if you delay any longer, you won't be able to ascend to heaven."
The cat remained motionless. After a while, in a soft voice, it said, "I want to see my owner."
The angel was somewhat surprised, but nevertheless granted the cat's request.
"But it serves no purpose," the angel's tone filled with regret, "you have already escaped the fear of dying, and what lies ahead is only happiness."
"I am not afraid," the cat gazed absentmindedly at the sunset, "cats have no concept of death; it is merely a long slumber. Eating what we love, doing what we enjoy, and being with those we love—that is the entirety of our existence."
The angel gazed at the cat's retreating figure as the air turned still.
"I want to see her one last time," the cat's voice choked with emotion, "every night she used to say goodnight to me."
The cat's owner continued to weep. A nurse, whom she had never met before, approached her and informed her that a doctor wanted to speak with her.
In the twilight's lingering glow, the nurse radiated a warm light. A gentle breeze swept in from the window, carrying a faint floral fragrance, softly caressing the girl's ears.
The girl saw her beloved cat once again.
The cat lay in a small bed, eyes closed, as if peacefully sleeping on an ordinary tranquil summer night.
Carefully, the girl cradled the cat in her arms. The cat's body no longer emitted warmth, nor showed any signs of awareness.
"I'm sorry, truly sorry, for not protecting you," the girl sobbed, "it's alright, we won't be separated anymore, let's go home."
The cat's soul gently descended into the girl's embrace.
This is how it should be, the cat thought. I have been waiting for this moment.
As the final gust of wind brushed against the girl's cheek, it raced toward the distance.
That night, the night sky twinkled with an array of stars. In their last moments of farewell, the girl finally voiced the question that had been lingering in her heart.
"Did my cat suffer when it departed?" she asked. "I believe not," the nurse's voice was filled with utmost gentleness. "Your cat had already lived a wonderful life, surrounded by genuine love from its family. That was enough for it."
"Will it remember me?" the girl's voice choked with emotion. "Yes," the nurse replied with a faint smile, "it will forever remember you."
"He will always love you."