Goodbye, little life.

Yesterday morning. Suley, left. Zeki, right.

Thank you, everyone, for your kind messages.

Zeki slept peacefully, in my arms, yesterday and today. He was extremely weak, but he wasn’t in distress. I saw no sign of pain or agitation. He enjoyed being caressed, and he ate enthusiastically.

When I woke up this morning, he was so deep asleep that I thought at first he’d slipped into a coma. But when I stroked his head, he stretched and nuzzled his face in my hand. I offered him breakfast: He perked up and dug in. I was relieved. I thought I had a little more time with him.

But suddenly, a few hours later, he cried out and began gasping for air.

I called the vet immediately. He arrived half an hour later. The end was merciful. It really was as if he’d peacefully gone to sleep.

Zeki had five littermates. They’re all gone now, except for Suley. Suley and Zeki were inseparable. They’d never spent a day of their lives apart.

Suley understood everything. When Zeki began laboring for breath, he came over and with immense gentleness wrapped his tail around his brother’s. Then he sat vigil by his side until the vet arrived. I was so moved that I took a photograph.

And then, when it was over, he cried.

Strange, is it not, that of the myriads who  
Before us pass'd the Door of Darkness through, 
Not one returns to tell us of the Road 
Which to discover we must travel too.