Our geriatric feline is slowing down. One of her eyes looks as if it may have cataracts but her vet says she can still see and she has no pain associated with her eye issue. I have noticed that she doesn't jump any more like she used to. In fact, we have unwittingly made physical accommodations for her to get into 'her' chair. It was my SO that noted that Cranky Kitty doesn't leap up into her chair any longer. Now she takes an inclined route from a foot stool to a chair, to the arm of the chair, over to an end table, and, finally, one step over into her chair with its comfy cushion.
Cranky Kitty is showing her age. So much so, that I sat down and got serious about figuring out about how old CK is. By my most conservative calculations, she is about one hundred and ten years old in human years. In just two months, she will celebrate her sixteenth year upon this earth. Hers has been a conflicted existence between wanting to sit on the laps of her owners versus biting her owners. I've written about her before. You never know what personality she will be 'wearing' at any given time of the day, therefore, she should always be approached with extreme caution.
Aging she may be, but she still has two senses that work overtime for her: Smell and sound. Today, she demonstrated her extreme ability to smell anything tuna related. She appeared to be sound asleep, snoring loudly, when I started making tuna salad. Knowing that her olfactory sense is uber-alert when it comes to tuna, I kept my eyes on her as I quietly unzipped the tuna packet. Almost instantly, she lifted her head and began sniffing the air. As the seconds passed, her sniffing became more obvious and intense. Soon she was staring straight across the room at me and shortly after that, she was able to jump down from her perch and scurry across the room, meowing frantically as she moved. At this point, she is highly predictable. She will sit at my feet, loudly complaining until morsels of tuna fish are set at her feet. She gobbles up what she is given, then moves back to her chair, where she proceeds to clean her face and front feet.
I wonder what I will be like at nearly one-hundred and twelve years of age? Heck, I wonder if I will even be alive at one-hundred and twelve years of age? Better yet, will I even want to be alive at one-hundred and twelve? Will I have cataracts covering one or both eyes? Will I need accommodations in order to climb into my favorite place to sleep? Will I still have my hearing? Will I still be able to savor the aroma of coffee beans, bacon frying, chocolate chip cookies baking or fine chocolate?
Weighty questions.
I need a dog.
Ancora imparo
