Elyssa’s tarot reading gave us the sign: something in our life will be closing. We know what it would be.
Twelve hours after, Rexie II opened the gate, and crossed to the other side.
Twelve years ago he was a four months old kitten who was dumped in the worst corner of Chinatown, losing the fight, dragging his hind legs everywhere in his last effort to cling to life.
Death would come as he tried to cross an alley, and a Mercedes Benz refused to slow down, if the small people of that slum: the parking lot guy, beggars, thugs, triad roaches block the road and made the bourgeois understand that it’s the cat’s life or his.
He was named Rexie II because that day when he came home with me, a dear friend lost her cat, so I gave her cat’s name to mine.
It took him months to reverse his calcium deficiency. Not twelve months later until he can use all his legs like a cat should be; but Rexie’s malnourishment was so extreme he has gastrointestinal problem all his life.
The first four years with us, every year he has surgery. Intestinal blockage, intestinal prolapse, megacolon, another intestinal blockage, chronic diarrhoea because his intestine cannot absorb nutrition as it should do. Something is always wrong with his gut.
Still, for twelve years Rexie is no less legendary. Even though he caught yet another illness, he walks and he runs, he jumps and he hunts, he climbs the roof, he catches butterflies, he endures all the stress from having to move from one rent to the other. When I finally buy this property and settle, he made himself king.
He eats what he wants, he sleeps where he wants, when he wants, he does what he wants.
Just like the wise king, he never forgets to go down and visit the small ones, cuddles with the orphan, made himself available for the sick. He sat with the broken hearted, he remembers where he came from.
Just like an old king, these past twelve weeks, all the illnesses that he conquered came back. We did our best, and do all the things we did together when he was sick, except for one: sending him to another surgery.
Like a king should be, he lives his last day with honour and dignity.
Like a brave king, and the grand one he is, he took his last breath on his favourite throne, closed his eyes, and let the heavens sing.