Singing the Song of the Unsung

This afternoon, Echo goes to the doctor for her first examination. This is today’s big event, but now I would like to write a little reminder of someone else with whom I live.

Josie has been with me longer than any of my current cats. We have been together for going on seven years. I believe I may have mentioned before that she is not the spectacular sort, not the kind of cat who garners attention. She is not a cute and cuddly kitten, nor a diabetic requiring special care. She is just a cat. But she is my cat, and my friend. And that is something to celebrate now and then.

One of the remarkable things about my Chubs is that she likes to make eye contact with me. She will fix me with a stare that is steady but friendly, in a concentrated sort of way. It is as if she is studying me. Periodically, I will wake in the middle of the night and Josie will be in her usual spot, lying next to me on the near side of the bed. She will be looking at me, and purring. I rub her head, talk to her and then we go back to sleep. Well, I do. She may continue staring at me, and purring. I like to think so.

Josie doesn’t ask for much. Her favourite activity is receiving chin-rubs. I’ve described these before. She will flop on her side, near to where I sit in the bedroom and lie still, while I rub her fuzzy chin. I needn’t even exert myself - though doing this for a prolonged period can cause an arm to ache - and she will appreciate the barest movement on my part. Sometimes, she will be happy to lie on my hand.

The Great White doesn’t move about the apartment to a great extent. She restricts herself mainly to the bedroom. She is unafraid of any other cat; she simply prefers the comfort of the bed, or the curve of one of the saddles on Cammie’s old cat-tree. She will come out to the dining area or the kitchen when it is meal-time, but she likes to have her food served on the bed. She waits there for it, sometimes patiently. Hers is a voluntarily circumscribed world, small but, I hope, comfortable and pleasant.

Yesterday, as I decided to write this article, I recorded the cats’ weights, as I like to do every month. I saw that Josie had lost some poundage again. She is now below six kilograms. Hers is certainly not a dangerous weight, either too great or too small, but she has been diminishing for a while now, very gradually. I have been keeping an eye on this. As well, she has been regurgitating her food more often than used to; she’d always had a sensitive stomach. Josie is keeping plenty down, I believe, but too much is coming up. She had had a seniors’ blood-panel performed on her prior to her dental operation in, I believe, March. But I will discuss with the veterinary hospital what tests may be conducted on my Chubs to ascertain her state of health. I am not worried, just a little concerned.

After all, Josie may be just a cat, but she is just my cat, and my friend.