Her Newly Dark Kingdom

After the terrible events of yesterday, Cammie’s condition is improving.

Once we had returned from the animal hospital, I felt that both she and I needed some rest, so I placed her on the bed, where she would relax a little, if she could. I lie down with her, and she purred. That purr was comfort to her and encouragement to me.

Hours later, she was better. She no longer walked in circles, and her rear quarters had strengthened to the point of being able to jump onto the bed from the floor. Cammie began exploring her newly dark world. It was familiar to her; she just couldn’t see it. But half a day after the stroke, she was walking about, avoiding obstacles by using her whiskers and nose. She was already adapting. She ate, and, more importantly, she used the litter-box, intentionally and correctly. Her bowels were under her control.

I realise there may be set-backs, problems so devastating that every optimistic thing I think now may have to be re-thought. I fear that the stroke may have damaged her brain, and that lucidity will not be permanent. But I am confident about the future. It’s true that she is blind, and will very likely remain so. She stays on the bed a great deal; it is central, relatively high, comfortable and well-lit; she can feel the sun and hear the outside from there. But she moves about when she feels she must, or wishes. I think mobility will increase as she grows used to her new situation.

Certainly Cammie’s world has shrunk. Some may think it constitutes a world not worth living in, for a cat. I disagree, but yet may revise my opinion. I will watch her and see how she acts, what she prefers, how she has changed. This morning, she crawled onto my chest and purred while I rubbed her chin. My princess has not changed so much that she cannot still enjoy her life, and if she enjoys it, I see no reason why she need leave it.