My cat is slowing down.

He's 16 years old now, and still as cool and groovy as ever. He winks at me like we share secrets. He talks to me in his huge vocabulary of meows, grunts and trills. But it's been a struggle to keep weight on him for the last few months. Just in the last week he's skinnier, he sleeps even more than usual, and he's walking crookedly. He's getting closer to the end. I still haven't gotten over losing The King of the Pasture...and I was afraid we'd lose our Ruler of All Soft Surfaces first. I have had the talk with the kids, warning them that some day Nigel will die of old age, or if he's suffering we'll have to put him down. They know. They also know that we have this chance to cuddle him and soak up all of his purring affection. So that's what we're doing. We feed him whenever he's hungry and make sure he has a soft place to sleep. We know when to tell the dog to back off and give the cat some peace, and when to let them curl up beside each other.
He really is a cool cat. He has been a constant companion for 15 years and has purred my kids to sleep since before they were born. But right now? He's still here with us. He's curled up in my lap right now and every couple of sentences I give him another pat between his crooked ears. We're going to love this cat for the rest of his life.