02/23/2026
As is the way at the Ark, a way we don't fully understand, but it happens often enough to form a pattern. As someone arrives, someone else falters; sometimes, on the day we lose someone, we are approached for another.
It is as if a bell rings somewhere far away, in a dusty room filled with books and ledgers. Where large tomes sit with pages turning in a non-existent current of air. A big, heavy book, embossed in swirls and loops of ivy, a book for us all here.
A check mark has appeared very clearly next to Bron. We have recognised his slowing down; he was at the vet not more than 8 days ago. But today, the light left his eyes and was replaced by a half look, most will understand; he refused to eat, just tried for our sake more than his; he had no interest in his favourite treats. He lapped some water and then curled onto his bed.
His time is close at hand.
He is free from pain, and he settles next to one of us; we take turns. It is not that we don't want to give him more time or try. If trying were enough, then we would be free from ever saying goodbye. Knowing him well, we have to recognise when he has said, " it's enough now". He has been consistent in his slowing down and letting go. We pray to be wrong, we fervently hope it is something else other than the end of his hourglass, yet in our hearts we know. It is time to honour him in the last way we can. We hope he drifts away peacefully in his sleep and home, before the vet.
For now, he rests easily, quietly slumbering, safe and secure, as he has been since his first day here.
With love.
