“Time spent with cats
is never wasted.”
- Sigmund Freud
The years have taken a toll on my girl Leah. What was once a
spry, take charge and by the way no prisoners feline, is now an older gal with a
spontaneously fused sacral spine from arthritis, causing slower movement and a
lot more rest in the day than in previous years.
On the day of this post, the planet has rotated 24,872 times
since my birth and 5,838 for her. Skipping
the math, and for clarification, I am 68 and she a ‘gnat’s eyelash’ short of
16.
Cat’s lives, as it turns out, are calculated differently.
According to Tracie Hotchner, author of the Cat Bible:
o
1-month-old kitten = 6-month-old human baby
o
3-month-old kitten = 4-year-old child
o
A 1-year-old cat has reached adulthood, the
equivalent of 18 human years
o
2 human years = 24 cat years
o
8 human years = 50 cat years
o
12 human years = 70 cat years
o
14 human years = 80 cat years
o
16 human years = 84 cat years
By these calculations, she is a dowager in the eighth decade
of her life.
Getting along…
For years, the hallmark of our relationship was a
predictable early morning and late evening ritual.
At the start of the day…the start of her day…she would slip
silently along the rug covered bedroom floor, hop to the bed, climb on my back
where, through the cobwebs of transitioning from sleep to wake, I sensed an
additional 10 pounds parked between my shoulder blades…her energetic purring
like a small vibrator.
“Hey You. Here I am…let’s get this day started!”
As I flipped from tummy to back, she with the aplomb of a
lumbar jack in a log rolling competition expertly stayed on top. There we rested
for a few minutes…two souls meditating in the mindlessness of the early morning
as our – well my – engines began to increase their revolutions in preparation
for the start of the day. Certain I was
awake, and her ‘ear scratching and back rubbing’ cup full, off she hopped in
anticipation of breakfast, normally at the hand of my human partner Molly.
At night, as I slipped into bed to read, do crossword
puzzles or whatever, this little figure would suddenly appear beside me, climb
to my chest and purr away for a few more minutes of quality time.
As she looked at me, I could imagine her saying. “It’s nice
to be here isn’t it - a good day for me, how about you?”
Once in awhile she might climb into my lap while I watched
TV, but most of our quality time opened and closed the day…this was our time.
Time and gravity…
The last couple of years, her routine has changed. She still
comes to bed early in the morning. No hopping up these days, but a slow and
deliberate climb up the four steps by my side of the bed, where she rather
indelicately steps on and over me on her way to Molly. There she perches, rests
and purrs as though the years have meant nothing. She doesn’t come to me at night any more at all.
A curious thing, however, has emerged in our relationship.
Since I now work out of our home, I find Leah hanging around more and in
different ways. After getting coffee and heading to the back yard as the sun
greets the morning sky, she limps out the door just to be with me as I sip away
and read.
When watching TV for the news or some program of interest,
she comes to me. This is not intermittent, from time to time; this is every
time I sit for a few moments. If I don’t
pick her up (I mentioned there is little hopping left in those rear end
springs), she softly scratches the side of my leg and stares as if to say in
clever alliteration,
“I am looking for a little lap loving…you had BETTER pick me
up!”
If I take an afternoon nap, no matter where she is hiding in
the house, I hear the uneven pitter patter of feet (no rugs on the bedroom
floor of our Tucson home), the now familiar ‘up the steps’ hobble as two eyes
emerge at the side of the bed, pausing as if asking permission and then slipping
to my chest we drift away together for a few unconscious moments…
”This is kinda nice isn’t it?” her calming purrs suggests.
The workday has become the most notable to me. I spend a lot
of hours behind the computer, and as I sit typing or reading, I feel a gentle rubbing
on the side of my leg. Pushing back my chair, there she sits looking for a
little company. When I pick her up and place her beside me on the desk she turns
and wiggles, then she lies beside my arm, falls asleep with an apparent sense
of contentment I cannot find words to describe.
“Yeah, this is good…just you and me working away Zzzzzzzz…”
The consequence of this is that we spend much more time
together than in the past. In some regards, I began to feel she was becoming
really needy…
Recently, a realization, real or imagined, slipped into my
consciousness. While I don’t know what or how she thinks, the sense I get is
that she is saying to me in her own way…
“Listen here, my friend, my time is much shorter than yours,
and I won’t be here too terribly much longer. I want there to be NO QUESTION as
to how much I love and have loved you in my life. My intention is to give you
as much of myself as I possibly can while I am still here…. “
Today is all there is for any of us, but there is little
doubt when that little creature’s time is done, my heart will appreciate every
gentle touch and every single purr…
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