63. To see a world in a grain of sand. and a heaven in a wild flower, hold infinity in the palm of your hand and eternity in an hour

It's a night in early December, and the winter has been surprisingly mild. The sun has been out almost every day, and the temperature hasn't dropped too low. I'm snoozing on my parent's couch and I suddenly feel my mother shaking me. 

"You need to take Uncle Brian to the vet with Monty," She said as soon as my eyes were open. I must not have been a very attractive sight; I was drooling all over my face and my hair was sticking out in a million different directions. 

"Huh?" I muttered. 

"Monty's not doing well." She said, her brown eyes that look so much like mine soft, "The vet clinic is in Perry." 

I stretched my arms and looked around. The Christmas tree was up early this year, the sun was streaming in through the bay window behind the couch and there was a dog sleeping at my feet. It took me a moment to remember what Mom was talking about. 

Last night, my Uncle Brian was worried about Monty, his old black-and-white cat. He wasn't eating and he was limping. 

I sat up and shook off the slumber soreness, "Okay." 

I went in the bathroom to take a shower and found Monty laying on the bathroom floor and Mom said he hadn't moved in hours. He meowed as I walked past him. 

I knelt down and took a good look at poor old Monty. 

He had breathing problems, so as he breathed he let out little gasps and croaks. His green eyes watched me as I stroked his long black fur. I talked to him in a low voice, even though he was deaf and there was no way he could hear me, I liked to think that he could. 

After getting ready, Uncle Brian and I gathered up Monty and were on the road. 

The drive to the closest vet clinic was about an hour long. The whole way there Uncle Brian and I talked about an array of things. 

"I need Monty to be okay," He said, putting his hand inside the pet carrier and stroking Monty. Monty meowed at his touch, "He's always been sick, even as a kitten." 

Because of my Uncle's health problems, he decided to adopt a cat that also had a lot of health problems. No one else ever wanted to adopt a cat who had as many health problems as he did. 

The drive there was beautiful, but the reason why we were making the trip wasn't. 

I looked over at my uncle as he peered down at his old furry friend. 

My uncle is an eccentric man. He has a bald head and a big white beard and kind blue-green eyes. He's very tall and walks with a cane. He lives in an attachment to our house that was originally built as a garage because he has a tumor wrapped around his jugular vein and a genetic disorder where he has awful blood clots. Someday in the near future, he will have to have his legs amputated. 

He used to have a job in Immigration and has an autographed picture of Ronald Regan on the wall from when he met him. 

Now, he's retired at the age of 46. For Uncle Brian, losing his cat would just be another loss for him. 

We drove to the vet clinic and had light conversation as we did. Like the big elephant in the room, the sound of Monty's sallow breathing was a painful reminder of why we were taking this drive along the jagged down east coast that, on another happier day, I'd enjoy taking. 

I helped me uncle and Monty into the vet building. I sat down to wait in the waiting room, but my uncle insisted that I come into the vet's office with him. 

In the vet's office, we were surrounded by little happy things. Posters of puppies and colorful decorations. It almost makes you forget that most of the animals that come in this room don't come out. 

We paced around in the room and my uncle tried to talk, but most of his words came out as babbles. Clearly, he knew that there was something deeply wrong with Monty. 

The nurse came in and my uncle didn't stop talking the whole time she checked Monty's temperature and looked into his eyes, ears and mouth. Because of Monty's ear problems, his ears were sewn shut earlier just that ear. 

"He's been sick ever since he was a kitten... He's really not that old... He lost weight over the summer just because he was going outside and being more active... Yeah, his ears are sewn shut, the doctor said that was the best way to make his ear infections stop... He has problems with his lungs and skin problems... But last night he stopped eating and Monty never misses a meal... He was limping yesterday but now he can't get up at all... He's so cold..." 

"Yes," The nurse intervened, "His temperature is 93... the normal for a cat is from 100-103." 

Uncle Brian looked at Monty with heavy eyes, "That's so low..." 

"The doctor will be in in just a minute.." She said and left the room. 

My uncle didn't say much this time, and that's not like him. He stood next to Monty on the table and pet his fur. He said things to him, and Monty would meow in return. 

After a wait that seemed like forever, the doctor walked in. 

My uncle started in with the exact same things he told the nurse. The doctor started feeling around Monty's body as my uncle continued talking. 

I watched the doctor's face. He was older and had balding blonde hair and blotchy skin, but kind green eyes. As he felt around Monty's body, I heard him whisper, "Wow" as his brows furrowed. 

I didn't need anything other then that to realize that Monty wasn't going to be okay. I sat down in a chair and watched as he continued examining Monty's limp body. Monty let out wheezes and meowed; I wanted to yell at the doctor to stop because it was clearly hurting him. 

Once my uncle stopped talking, the doctor brought his hands together and let out a heavy sigh. 

"Well, one of Monty's kidneys is three times it's normal size, and the other kidney is smaller then it should be."  

My uncle didn't respond right away, "That's not good, is it?" 

"No," The doctor said quietly, "It's not. And his temperature is so low - 10 degrees lower then it should be, actually. And at that point, we're talking about the body shutting down." 

"Could it be..." My uncle started, "Kidney failure?" 

"It could be.." The doctor started, "But there is no 100% way of me knowing that Monty won't be okay and that he will. I could run blood tests and x-rays but honestly, those things could only be prolonging the inevitable." The doctor paused, clearly not wanting to go on, "Monty's body is shutting down. That's why he's been limping, because he isn't getting circulation to his legs." 

My uncle made a noise in the back of his throat and shifted his weight on his cane. He cleared his throat and started, "You need to do what you think is right." He said in a very quiet, sad voice. 

"You want me to go ahead and put him down?" The doctor asked. 

My uncle only nodded. The doctor nodded as well and left the room. 

Like he had been kicked in the stomach, my uncle hit the wall in a fit of sobs. He was crying and I just realized that I had been crying for some minutes now. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around him as he cried on my shoulder. 

He put his arm out to Monty and stroked him. 

"Oh, Monty... Oh no, Monty..." He said helplessly, "I wish there is some way I could help you..." 

We sat in the room with Monty and both cried. I repeated over and over how sorry I was, and I felt even more sorry because I was no help in this situation. 

The doctor came back in and Uncle Brian and I were both stroking Monty. My uncle wanted the remains for burial. I stroked underneath Monty's chin and he purred lowly against my hand; I knew that that was his favorite spot. His green eyes looked happy somehow, as if he knew he would no longer be in pain. 

"Wow," The doctor repeated. I wish he would stop using that word, "I can't find his veins." He was poking around Monty's leg with the needle. Monty's veins were shutting down. 

And when he was finally able to find Monty's veins, the injection was done. 

I had seen animals die before. I watched my dog get hit by a car when I was a kid; my mom once accidentally ran the dryer with my cat in it the day before Christmas. But I had never seen an animal get put to sleep. 

It was so peaceful and quick, I didn't even know that Monty was gone until the doctor said; 

"He's gone now." 

My uncle and I were both still sobbing, and the woman handed us a box of tissues. 

The drive home was quiet. My uncle was the first to speak; something light about how beautiful of a day it was. 

Once we got home, my father, my uncle and I went to bury Monty out back in one of the fields. My dad had to do most of the digging because my uncle's legs were in a lot of pain. We picked a spot under a tree that my uncle could see from his window. 

So he would always know where he was. 

We covered the grave with rocks and the sun was high in the sky; it lit up Monty's spot. 

"He always loved to sit next to the window and look out at the field," My uncle muttered and placed more rocks on top of his grave, "Goodbye, old friend."