2003-01-29 - 4:48 p.m.
I am frozen on my couch right now. The icebergs in my veins can’t fit through my heart valves. I’ve been adjusting to this new non-life on my couch. I actually prefer the idea of this gray all-but, more-or-less nearly-death to all-out, definitive, end-of-existence black death. Thank God I’ve been good to my cat, Celebrity, because he’s now rubbing up against my nippy almost-corpse. He’s starting to lick my inner arm and I’m regaining feeling there. His warm, healing kitty spit drips down to my hand, reinvigorating all tissue along its path. As he remembers the extra chicken’n’cheese flavored Whisker Lickin’s I gave him last week, he sweeps my subthermal cheek with his rough tongue.
Its been twelve minutes; my face is now free. I want to reward Celebrity with something bigger than his usual fatty morsels, so I decide to let him in on something he didn’t know.
“Celebrity, you’re going to die someday,” I whispered in one of his triangular ears. He stopped my tongue bath, looked up at me, and meowed like he usually does when he’s hungry.
