Watching a small friend make travel plans

 Rufus is a short haired ginger cat, approximately 18 years old.  He is an old man, waiting for the end. Three days ago he began his end stage vigil, refusing food, barely moving and his once hearty old cat yowls of existential ennui have become small peeps of futile rage against the tyranny of time. I know death is near. I know he is just a cat. I know that he has been a strange pet; nervous and sometimes indifferent to me, but he has been a amiable presence and friendly spirit to my family. His life has been harder since his litter mate brother and constant companion, the also ginger "Yugi" died suddenly five years ago. Much of Rufus' existence, since his brother's death, seemed to be  him looking for Yugi in the house where they both lived and never left. It was heartbreaking at times, and almost funny sometimes. Rufus in his present state, nearing the ledge, occasionally gets up and walks , stiffly and with difficulty to the base of the stairs and looks into the distance with deeply sunken, watery eyes, absorbing the details of the physical world, maybe the last time, or is he still looking for the orange kitten he used to wrestle with? I spent yesterday with Rufus, watching and trying to give him water and food, sometimes crying like a special needs four year old. I continually flashback to sitting with our parents while they too made plans to leave. All Laurie and my parents left in such a way that we could sit with them;  never long enough, and interestingly, all four made their trips when no one was in the room with them. Rufus is like a bitter hors dourve to the sad banquet of death that awaits us all. He maintains his dignity and looks to not be in pain (though I have pain meds at the ready should that change), and he has all the humans who love him near. it's easy to extrapolate what my time laying on the kitchen floor, on a fleece blanket, staring at the refrigerator will be like.. I am 61, (62 in May) and have long felt the loss of the unlimited  horizon; the destination is starting to be in sight, if hopefully still a long walk, its much closer to the end than the beginning. I envision sadness and attentiveness followed by irritation and the desire to get it over with. I for see, crawling under a desk, away from my tired loved ones to end my days. Whether by the blunt force trauma of world war 3 or the creeping cancer of climate change we as a species face death on the horizon. Rufus is scouting ahead. I love you Rufus and hope we will see each other again.

Update: Days later, Rufus is hanging in there. I suspect he has discovered how great kitty hospice can be: They bring me food and water, and carry me to the cat box- this is great!

Update #2 - We took Rufus to the vet to say goodbye on March 23rd 2023 at 5:00PM . We brought him home and buried him in the backyard and planted a rose over him.