My Recent Scarcity
I know that my postings have been erratic over the past couple of weeks. I have a hundred and one excuses, but one of them was the fact that I was dealing with an ailing sixteen-year-old cat.
This morning, Christina, died. I adopted her and her (already-deceased) brother when they were six months old. Christina was a tiny, terrified kitty who had been brought to the shelter after some kind soul found her (and her mother, and three siblings) in a barn. Boys had been throwing stones at the cats, and Christina spent her first eight years terrified of men. Once my husband came into our lives, though, Christina warmed to people in general and men in particular, and in her old age, she was downright sociable. Christina was always the alpha-cat in this house, controlling access to our bed and the food bowls. She could eat her always-less-than-six-pounds-weight in turkey, chicken, and ice cream.
Christina had lost a great deal of weight in the last couple of weeks. Yesterday, she sat on my lap while I wrote, and she watched baseball highlights with us last night. She demanded a full jar of baby food (turkey, of course) for a late-night snack, and she seemed to be doing better. This morning, alas, she was clearly very much worse off; she died beneath our bed before we got to our hastily-scheduled 10:30 a.m. euthanasia appointment at the vet’s office. We’re pleased that she didn’t have to face the fear of that last visit (or the difficulty of the vet searching for one of her teeny veins.)
I’m grateful that Christina chose a long weekend to leave us, especially one where Mark was already home for the day. Our remaining cat, Poppy, has been very attentive (after she checked out the place where Christina died, and after she reported back to us, very verbally, that something was wrong.) We’ll wait for a couple of months, and then we’ll find another shelter-kitty to share our home.
Mindy, very, very tired.