This past August, my cat Ted turned 17. He is – and has been for some years now – an Old Man Cat, although I prefer to think of him as a Distinguished Feline Gentleman.
The past year and a half have been his roughest. He’s endured dental surgery, two hospitalizations, multiple ultrasounds, countless trips to the vet, too many blood draws, and a months-long bladder disorder, resulting in anemia, weight loss and a very poor appetite. Early this year after having exhausted several rounds of painkillers and antibiotics, I began to resign myself to his passing. I did not think he would last the calendar year.
After all, Ted has a triple threat of a heart murmur, chronic kidney disease and hyperthyroidism. His once robust 13 plus pound body is skinny and frail. Strength and athleticism have been replaced by ginger and sometimes stiff movements due to arthritis. He no longer jumps up onto anything. His explorations of the urban wilds of our yard are a thing of the past. He has become even grumpier and even more vocal, meowing loudly, persistently and obnoxiously when he wants something.
And yet. . . Continue Reading