My senior cat will turn 20 next month. When she was a kitten, she was full of spunk – all ears and claws – and not much of a people cat. I had a pair of leather gloves that I would wear to pluck her off the bookshelf or other places she didn’t belong, it was the only way to prevent damage. As she got older she calmed down, and eventually she turned into quite a lap cat.
We got a second cat in the early days, to keep her company, but it didn’t turn out well. The new kitten – from the litter of a work friend’s much-beloved cat – had feline leukemia, and had to be returned. I think that was the end of the whole litter, and probably the mother cat as well. Very sad – but somehow our cat survived it. Feline leukemia is sometimes called AIDS for cats.
A couple years ago she had a bad decline and lost a lot of weight. We thought it was the beginning of the end, but we changed a few things, and she rallied. She’s never regained all the weight she should, but she’s much improved from when you could count each vertebra in her spine.
Her hearing went a year or so ago, although it’s always been an open question whether she can’t hear or is just ignoring you. She sure figures out when it’s dinner time. Around the same time, she got more obstreperous – she especially enjoys jumping up on the dining room table, poaching on M’s cheesy popcorn or other food. (M doesn’t know how to prevent this.)
Recently, though, her rear legs have been going, and I’m thinking – again – that the end may be near. It’s not just a question of not being able to jump up things (it takes two jumps to get to the table now: first chair, then table.) She doesn’t land well when she jumps down, and sometimes she staggers sideways. Worse, she has started falling off the coffee table when she’s just walking along the edge.
20 years is a good run for a cat found on a street corner. She’s a good friend and a tough old bird, and who knows? She may yet prove me wrong again.