A cat for the sun

Mac loved the sunlight: in our old place, he would find the smallest sliver of sun and bask in it. In our current house, we are fortunate to have an east facing balcony that gets plenty of sun, and Mac could indulge himself as much as he liked. I think of him as my cat in the sun: seeing him through the balcony doors in a pool of sunlight was like seeing through a door into summer.

It gave me so much joy to see him sleeping in the sun. His simple pleasure at the warmth and light was infectious: no matter how bad a day you were having, seeing his orange fur in a golden pool of sunlight would make me forget my worries and I would, almost by osmosis, feel that same simple joy that he did.

The last three days have dawned bright and beautiful, with golden yellow dawnings blending into blazing hot noontimes and mellow afternoons. Exactly the kind of weather Mac would have loved. I look up at the cat tree every morning, at the spot where he would have sat to watch the sunrise, and I miss seeing his orange fur fluffing in the morning breeze.

The first dawn after his passing, I put his urn up on the cat tree, on his favourite spot, so he could be in the sun again. Such sunlight should not be wasted, I thought: he would not have wasted a second of it. It makes me think of our own time in the sun, how short it must be, how short it is, and the simple lesson  Macavity taught us: whenever there's sun, be in it.

I almost forgot: the day of his passing, Kristine told me he woke up and climbed to his spot in the tree and watched the sun rise. I'm glad he got to see the sun rise one more time. I suppose at some point in our lives, each of us would be glad to see even one more sunrise.