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. Continue reading “There’s Life in the Old Girl Yet”→
The fruit trees of Bothell are putting on their annual show. Every year, I take about twelve kajillion photos of them, and share a few of the best with you. This year, thee shall have lots of beautiful flowers, as well as the story of that one time my mama cat Flower hated on the Book of Mormon, thus saving me from some of the worst prose ever written.
Being kitteh-mommy to an ancient cat requires care and attention. I have a few criteria for determining if Misha is still healthy and happy.
1. Is she sleeping comfortably?
It would appear so. Comfortably by cat standards, certainly. She has established a wonderful routine in the mornings where she crawls under the covers and tucks up against my tummy for an hour or two before it’s time to really wake up. Of course, she’s been demanding cuddles more often, which makes anything but reading a bit difficult, but I needed to get quite a lot of research done anyway. I sneak in computer time when I can.
Misha’s cold again. She’s been an above-blanket cat all of her life until now. She would become upset with any attempt to lay cloth over her, which meant instant pain and regret for the cloth-layer. I did once wake to find her snoozing at the foot of my bed with the blanket pulled up to her shoulder, but only the one time.
Owning a Samsung Galaxy S3 tablet with a camera has given me many more opportunities for photographing my cat. Considering she is elderly, I photograph her a lot. If you follow me on G+, you already know I post a huge number of photos of her there, and people seem to enjoy them, so I’m encouraged to continue.
I know that when she goes, I’ll be looking back at them, probably blubbering a lot and showing them to anyone I can collar for a few seconds. This, especially, is one that I’ll cherish, and stuff in people’s faces to show that, whilst ye wee beastie was a homicidal fiend, she was also my sweet little girl. Continue reading “Avec le Chat”→
B and I got together tonight to start making fun things with rocks, which will stock our future emporium (in time for holiday shopping, even!). Of course, when your factory is also your apartment, you have to contend with a certain kind of oversight. Continue reading “All Up in Our Bidness”→
Okay, she’s not actually the bane of my existence or a literal nightmare, but she likes to believe she is. And she spends most of her time on the porch these days.
I brought home a new chair for it yesterday, and as soon as I started removing the plastic wrapper bits guarding the legs, she zipped over and started doing battle with them. This is part of the reason we were late getting going – when you’re elderly felid is in a feisty mood, it’s necessary to humor her.
Since I’ve been home, she’s gotten more curious and playful. She’s also much more sociable and demanding – we ended the night outside, because she’s been getting really vocal about me joining her there. When I’m in the bedroom, she’ll come back in and yowl from the doorway for a minute, giving me an impatient look. I think that meow traslates as, “You bloody fool, it’s effing hot, what are you doing in there? Get your ass out here!” Then she stalks out, occasionally coming back to repeat the demand. It was warm enough to acquiesce to her request, so I figured why not. We’ll have to do it more often. She likes having me out there.
She also likes to steal my cushion.
She’s definitely a beastie that likes comfort. And yelling at Mom. And occasionally viciously attacking. Her unpredictability is what makes her so much fun.