My oldest kitty, Megs, is very sick. I heard from the vet today and her bloodwork showed something seriously wrong with her liver. It will take a sonogram to find exactly what it is, whether it's cancer or liver disease, but either way, it's not looking good for the old girl. So very soon, I will have some big decisions to make about my 15-year companion. Gosh, that's longer than a lot of marriages -- longer than mine, for sure. That's longer than a lot of friendships. Longer than school.
My cat has seen a LOT of my life, literally witnessing every major life change so far -- I got her when I was 20. Before I had even met the guy who would become my ex-husband. And you know, I can look back and see now how I should have paid more attention to her -- she never liked that asshole. heh.
She knows my history, she IS my history. And it freaks me out to think of life without her fluffy self, she who has been the one constant in my life for so long. That is a good word for her: constant. She has slowed down a lot in her old age, but has yet to lose her attitude and spunk. She'll still kick Piper's ass if necessary -- but really all she has to do is give Piper one withering look and the Peeps is dust in the wind. Megs will still come loudly complain if she is unhappy about something -- hunger, thirst, even the litter box. She will come sit next to or beside me and touch my face with her paw, gently at first and then more insistently, until she has my full attention and I give her what she wants. My long-time friend Kelly was my roommate the semester in college when we decided to take on a pet -- she was/is co-mother to Megs. Even after all these years, and considering Kelly and I don't visit but once or twice a year, Meggie remembers her. And she remembers my family members. Oh yes, that cat has a looonnngggg memory. It makes me so sad that all those memories will be lost when she isn't around anymore.
Which brings me to tonight. I'm trying not to get too morbid, since I still don't have all the facts, but my vet basically told me to prepare myself. And I guess I have been, for a while now. As I've wached Megs grow more frail over the past 6 months, I've known deep down that her age was going to catch up with her and I needed to brace myself. But tonight, I am just loving her, giving her my support. Bringng her a plate of canned catfood to the back room where she prefers to sleep, turning on the gas fireplace for her shivering self, even though it's f-ing hot in here (gone is the ice, TX is back) and I had to strip down to my undies to stay in the living room with her. Before I came to bed, where I am writing this in an attempt to purge my heart so I can sleep, I took this small Ikea fake fur rug into her room and laid it on the futon, where she likes to sleep -- since she gets cold. So we'll see what the next days bring. But am I crazy to think she moved a little shower tonight than last night, almost as if she can sense this change of energy in the house? I'm trying to stay normal, but I get sad, you know.
I will sure miss her, but she is not gone yet, and as long as she's here -- and long after -- she's my best girl.