Life with a 21 year-old cat isn’t always simple. Misha’s declining. There are days when I have to feed her a kibble at a time, and days when she’ll barely eat at all. There are times when I’ve spent the entire day trying to feed her, gone through the entire stock of what she used to eagerly chow down on, and dissolve in tears because she refuses it all. This is it, I end up thinking.
Then, as if the little wretch was just waiting for me to break down, she takes her arthritic self to her food dish and starts munching. Damn cat.
It’s hard, watching the end approach. Watching for the signs that the balance has tipped, and the bad days outnumber the good, and it’s time to do the kindly thing and call the vet. Right now, she still seems to be enjoying life. She’ll wander out to the porch on warm days and manage to climb up on her favorite chair, surveying her domain.
She sleeps most of the time, but still takes inordinate pride in getting in to everything I’m doing, and getting on top of my work.
And, once I persuade her to find another spot, she settles for getting on top of my other work.
She keeps me up at the end of every night wanting a good snuggle, and wakes me up in the morning wanting another.
And sometimes, she’ll faceplant in her blankie, looking for the absolute last crumb from her kitty treats.
She often gets so absorbed in her search that she doesn’t notice me giving her more until I nudge her. I love those days, because I know I can get enough food in her belly, and it’s adorable to watch.
I have no idea how much time we have left. I treasure every second. Okay, except maybe a few of the ones where I’m getting prodded awake by a cold cat, and a few of the ones where I’m being kept awake because she keeps changing her mind about whether she wants to be under the covers or not. But I know I’ll miss even those moments, so I try to treasure them, too.
I’m not a pet person, but I married into a family of animal lovers, so I know important these attachments can be. It’s great that you have been able to enjoy her company for so many years, and she is lucky to have owned a person who truly cared for her, and took good care of her.
“Toujours gai toujours gai!”
Misha does sort of seem reminiscent of mehitabel, now that you mention it.
We lost our elderly cat a few months back, after a long slow decline. Towards the end, she didn’t eat much but she was still recognizably her sweet self, wanting nothing more than to sleep on my lap while I read. We offered her anything we could come up with, for food. Have you tried chicken baby food? I understand that it isn’t great nutritionally for cats, but it gave her calories and she’d often eat more of it than anything else. She did love to eat chicken.
I know how painful it is, to watch someone you love so much and know you can only do so much to help them. Sorry to hear she isn’t well.
For those unfamiliar with archy and mehitabel:
the song of mehitabel
By Don Marquis, in “archy and mehitabel,” 1927
this is the song of mehitabel
of mehitabel the alley cat
as i wrote you before boss
mehitabel is a believer
in the pythagorean
theory of the transmigration
of the soul and she claims
that formerly her spirit
was incarnated in the body
of cleopatra
that was a long time ago
and one must not be
surprised if mehitabel
has forgotten some of her
more regal manners
i have had my ups and downs
but wotthehell wotthehell
yesterday sceptres and crowns
fried oysters and velvet gowns
and today i herd with bums
but wotthehell wotthehell
i wake the world from sleep
as i caper and sing and leap
when i sing my wild free tune
wotthehell wotthehell
under the blear eyed moon
i am pelted with cast off shoon
but wotthehell wotthehell
do you think that i would change
my present freedom to range
for a castle or moated grange
wotthehell wotthehell
cage me and i d go frantic
my life is so romantic
capricious and corybantic
and i m toujours gai toujours gai
i know that i am bound
for a journey down the sound
in the midst of a refuse mound
but wotthehell wotthehell
oh i should worry and fret
death and i will coquette
there s a dance in the old dame yet
toujours gai toujours gai
i once was an innocent kit
wotthehell wotthehell
with a ribbon my neck to fit
and bells tied onto it
o wotthehell wotthehell
but a maltese cat came by
with a come hither look in his eye
and a song that soared to the sky
and wotthehell wotthehell
and i followed adown the street
the pad of his rhythmical feet
o permit me again to repeat
wotthehell wotthehell
my youth i shall never forget
but there s nothing i really regret
wotthehell wotthehell
there s a dance in the old dame yet
toujours gai toujours gai
the things that i had not ought to
i do because i ve gotto
wotthehell wotthehell
and i end with my favorite motto
toujours gai toujours gai
boss sometimes i think
that our friend mehitabel
is a trifle too gay
Hang in there, Misha, for as long as you can do so comfortably. Demand the love you deserve. And please accept my long-distance pets. I shall pet the proxy cats in your honor.
Maw, Misha.
Our tuxedo kitty passed some few years back, about a year and a half after his brother did, at the ripe old age of 16. Maybe he’d of had a few more years if we had discovered his liver tumor sooner, maybe not. I do still miss him, the puddin’. Even miss his brother’s toothy mid-night toe attacks, sort of. *sniff*
Our old Spook is now 18 and holding up well, but last year he lost his appetite for a while and it turned out to just be a bad tooth. Hopefully your Misha will get to enjoy her summer.
I love it when the crisis turns out to be something easily fixed! Here’s to many more years with the old boy. Thanks for the well-wishes!
Awww. :-( I feel for you! It’s so hard to lose ’em. But those memories are priceless. Even the somewhat sharp-toothed ones.
She’s thriving on the proxy attention! And ye gods, is she ever demanding…
“there s a dance in the old dame yet
toujours gai toujours gai”
Yes. Exactly. That’s my girl. Thank you for this!
So many hugs if you want them. *sniffle* Thank you for the suggestion – I’ll try it if she goes off her feed again. She’s currently enjoying a rotation of Whiskas, tuna, and treats again, but now I’ll have some hope when she starts being a little refusnik. Poor things, they have a hard time of it before they go.
Thank you!
Many years and cats – family and individual – ago, our family had an elderly tortoise shell named Katrina. She was a very contented old girl – we used to excercise her by taking her to the bottom of the garden and she’d run back as quickly as she could! She turn around to face the TV every time the cricket music came on and definitely helped me stay as (relatively) sane as I am. Nothing quite like a purring happy cat settled on your lap.
Anyhow, when she was in decline in her last years we took her to the vet half expecting it would be The Last Trip and instead the vet suggested and gave her a steroid injection which gave her & us – from distant memory – a few more happy months. It certainly helped Katrina come good for a while anyhow. I don’t know whether or not this will work for Misha but it might be worth considering and looking into.
I can so relate to this,having lived with and been owned by a number of great family pets including my first cat Munga white Turkish angora who owned me for many years before dying of old age (well being put to sleep actually) a decade or two ago now. I know how much it hurts.
Please give Misha a pat from me and wishing you both many more happy moments and joy!