"Picture me sitting on the dining room rug at 3:00 in the morning. The only light on is the one above the stove. This tiny kitten is sitting on my lap, on a towel, next to a small bowl that's holding a single spoonful of food. We're working through that spoonful one bite at a time with a mini-syringe. He doesn't feel good. He won't eat on his own. He wants to sit on my lap. He wants me to feed it to him, because he's hungry, but he doesn't have any energy.
And you realize how quiet it is at 3:00 in the morning, and how dark, and you just hear your voice: "here we go, one more bite, sweet pea, one more. That's it. Good boy." And he chews, and we move on to the next bite. It's the strongest reminder I've had lately of how small we all are, how fragile we can be, and how amazing it is to watch something that tiny just try to keep going. It's damn scary too. Forget the latest movie on DVD, or video game, or who's President, or the price of gasoline. Right now, for this half hour, the focus is on sheer survival. It's poignant, and scary, and triumphant at the same time."