The old tabby cat jumps lightly onto the love seat and settles herself next to me. It seems she has several things to say and with her face just an inch of two from mine, she stares intently, as if trying to read my mind. It was a little disconcerting when she began doing this several months ago but I’ve gotten accustomed to it and I stare right back. It’s all terribly serious and her eyes never waver. When she speaks, it’s short and to the point. I scratch her ears and after a series of retaliatory head butts, she curls up, tucks her paws beneath her body and drifts off to a cautious sleep.
She’s an old lady these days, well into her teens and having the expected old lady ailments. She doesn’t much like the Purina UR prescription catfood and she doesn’t always make it to one of the litter boxes in time. I clean up after her a few times every week - sometimes once or twice a day, sometimes not at all – and I don’t scold. I keep a careful eye on her but so long as she’s eating and drinking and not in pain, I’m not ready to let her go. She’s still active and agile and alert. Mild and intermittent incontinence isn’t much of a price to pay.
Perhaps one day someone will feel the same toward me.
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