Milo, our cat, in his younger days.
My cat is old.
He seems to be having trouble walking. I can hear him coming when he is in the other room; there is a click, click, click that wasn’t there before.
We got our cat, Milo, when my daughter was in fifth grade. We had just moved back to California and were temporarily living with my parents (a temporary situation that ended up lasting two years). My daughter was stubborn and persistent and badgered us until we gave in and drove to the animal shelter thirty miles away. The shelter staff took us to a private room and brought cats in, one at a time, to meet us.
Milo was not the first cat we met. He was the second. He was slender and grey and went right up to my daughter, leaned in, and purred. The shelter staff guessed that Milo was about four years old. Years later, our vet said that she doubted that, that he was probably only two or so when he arrived at the shelter. In any case, he is clearly an elderly cat now. He was not a kitten when we adopted him toward the end of 2011; by any calculation, he is at least sixteen years old and possibly could be almost eighteen.
He was adorable. He was our cat. Actually, he was my daughter’s cat; we had her sign his adoption papers and listed her as his owner. She promised, as children do, that she would care for him. She would definitely clean his litter box.
I’m sure that she did at first, but it was a new experience for all of us, having an indoor cat. When I was growing up, we had five cats, but they all lived outside. They ate out of a common bowl. They were with us, until one day they weren’t. We never knew what happened to them. It was sad when they disappeared, but sometimes it took awhile before we realized they were gone.
I don’t know how much longer Milo will be with me. I do know that caring for him is becoming a job that takes more and more of my time. He is having issues that apparently plague the elderly of many species. He has problems with his eyes (cataracts, the vet said) and with his kidneys, which is why he drinks more water than he used to. He has always been a big cat and has never had the easiest time grooming himself, just because there is so much of him—but it seems that he’s having a harder time than before. Kitty litter gets stuck to his paws and ends up in clumps on the floor all over the house.
It is not my favorite thing, sweeping up kitty litter from the bathroom floor, the kitchen floor, the living room floor, my bedroom floor. It seems like it is everywhere. Continue Reading…
