It's late and I can't sleep for nerves, but I should. So I look at the cat to relax. She is stretched on Mo's orange padded jacket and her green eyes are half-closed, eyelids flickering. Her white front right paw is curled softly into her chest.
Like the tide coming in, her green eyes start to close. She stretches out the right front white paw and rests her mottled brownish face with its green eyes and white muzzle onto it.
We like to look at the cat. “My god,” Mo will say, “she's cute.”
“She is. And you want to know the best part about our cat?” I say.
“What's that?”
“She will never, ever die.”