Together

At 85, the old lady inches slowly towards her living room holding firmly to her walker, her mind is sharp-as sharp as it's ever been. Her legs have become weak with age, she can no longer see clearly, any visitors who ring at her door; nor can she hear them. Her friends have all passed leaving her alone, the last remaining "Golden Girl." At 15, the cat sits quietly in the doorway, the days of chasing balls and imaginary birds have long since passed. Her body aches with arthritis and her kidneys are failing. Reaching her chair, the old lady slowly lowers herself careful not to fall. She raises the footrest and covers her legs with the quilt she keeps nearby. Seeing this silent signal the old cat moves across the room and, with great effort jumps into her lap. The two, having grown old together settle into the familar comfort that each has come to know. A gentle pet on the head, a grateful purr they close their eyes.