A Positively Final Appearance by Guinness Alec

Author:Guinness, Alec [Guinness, Alec]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780140299649
Amazon: 014027006X
Barnesnoble: 014027006X
Goodreads: 605387
Publisher: Penguin Books
Published: 1999-04-02T07:00:00+00:00

Today is Easter Monday, bright and very chilly. Our dear cat, Michaelmas, is in a coma but still faintly breathing. Yesterday he had a series of fits which convulsed his thin frame and we are pretty sure he has gone blind. He came to us as a kitten, a gift from Matthew eleven years ago. The vet saw him on Saturday, gave him an antibiotic injection, and guessed he has either cancer or an infection in his pancreas. A sample of urine was taken and this morning we learn that it is kidney failure and nothing can, or could, be done for him. If he is still alive after lunch we shall have him put down. If he has already died by then we shall bury him in a sunny little spot where dwarf daffodils and grape hyacinths grow. He has been a good, clever cat—adept at opening sliding doors—and his tabby markings were beautiful. The only relief in his passing will be the cessation of gifts of baby rabbits with severed heads.

Outside my study window I see a collared dove sitting, very still, on a branch of the plane tree, which is not yet in leaf. The dove and the tree match each other in their smooth pale way. A greater spotted woodpecker is at the hazelnuts intended for the blue tits and a blackbird is digging his bright yellow beak into the grass and tugging vigorously at what must be a very resistant worm. Michaelmas goes slowly and distressfully out of our lives but nature still provides moments of delight. One searches around for minor comforts.

A week ago someone in Manchester kindly sent me a copy of selected writings from the Mishnah, the Jewish book of oral traditions in law and religious practice; in fact, I suppose, part of the Talmud. Naturally it contains a wealth of fascinating material but a lot of it is too finicky for my comprehension. Because it was Holy Week I looked up, in the Mishnah, the account of the Scapegoat, driven each year out of Jerusalem into the desert, carrying in its lonely self all the sins of the population, symbolized by a scarlet thread tied round its head. At the same time, it appears, another crimson thread was tied to the door of the sanctuary in the Temple. After walking or being driven the three miles to the desert, the goat would eventually die and then, we are told, the thread on the sanctuary door turned white. ‘Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.’ So Isaiah assures us. The Archbishop of Canterbury was interrupted during his Easter Sunday sermon at the cathedral by gay rights activists climbing into the pulpit alongside him to denounce him and all his orthodox attitudes. The ringleader was led away by police and will be charged with something vague under an ancient and no longer applicable law. It is unlikely that he will receive more than a sympathetic nod and a slap on the wrist.

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