I spent a lovely length of time out in the sunshine today. The warm weather was both a surprise and a delight. My furs lapped up the beams. I sat beneath my purple plum so long I missed my afternoon nap. So, I turned in early. I tucked myself under the soft blanket. "Night-night."
P.S., My Own loves my carmel-colored ears. She kissed them as she turned out the lights.
Change is, they say, inevitable. Sometimes good, sometimes bad.
When change walks hand in hand with aging, the bad claws at the good.
In a matter of days, we watched Uncle Keaks wither. One moment robust. The next, shrinking in body and spirit. In the same short span of time, Tiggy started fading like a shadow falling into dusk.
The Nip Patch became a Geriatrics Ward.
Many trips to the vet. Repeated blood work. Needles and insulin for Tiggy. Pink pills crushed and liquefied, syringed into Uncle Keaks. Medications twice a day. All in an attempt to stave off what appeared to be the inevitable; to bend change to our will.
We walked along side this new reality for many weeks. The way of progress painfully slow. The guilt of not truly seeing the bad changes sooner bubbling up. We asked for your purrs. And you sent them. You have our gratitude.
One day at a time, the healing increased. Tiggy, lame in the hind legs with a raging blood sugar, began to walk on his toes again. His muscles grew strong. Once again, jumping was possible. Last month, he ran and chased Penelope for the first time!
Tiggy is wrestling again. Of course, he still loses to Moi. But in the ring with Penelope, our little sister, he triumphs.
The grand patriarch, Uncles Keaks, is back to plowing through his food. His thyroid is under control. He has gained back two pounds. In less than a month, the medication will cease. He plays, purrs, walks in the garden. His yellow eyes glow. His mancatliness untarnished!
We embrace this good change and hold it, ever so tight.
It appears old age has finally caught up with Uncle Keaks. Our nineteen year-old patriarch has been lethargic for the past week refusing all manner of stinky goodness. Only Cat Sip, a little Fancy Feast gravy and a couple syringes of cod liver oil have passed his lips. Most unlike him.
Squeaker, July 2011
My Own took him to the vet this afternoon. He is in for observation. Please send purrs his way.