Her Blind Ambition

From my observations, and from further talks with Cammie’s doctor, I think the conclusion must be reached that the princess is almost blind; what little she sees probably isn’t enough to make a difference. Her world now is mostly black.

But her future is not. Cammie has been exploring, and adjusting. Last evening and this morning, before I went to work, I watched her assess her new situation. One of the questions about her blindness was how she would find her way from the bed to other parts of the bedroom, where she spends much of her time. In particular, I worried that she would be able to drink enough water. I noticed that she was spending more time at the big water-bowl on the floor by the door than she ever has. But now she has re-discovered her route to her favourite bowl on the ledge by the window.

When sighted, she would walk from the bed, across the desk, behind the computer monitor, then in front of the computer. This morning, I watched her do it without vision.

Then there was the ordeal of dropping from one platform to the next on the cat-tree. One would think that climbing would be the harder task, but with her eyes no longer working, stepping into darkness became a leap into the unknown. I tried to help Cammie by patting the next level as she descended, to let her hear how far down, and where, the step was. I think it provided her with guidance, though from her grumbling, I suspect that she wished I would leave her to do it her own way. In any case, she made it all the way by herself last night.

And then she was off exploring. She bumps into many things, but that isn’t deterring her. The day after her stroke, she confirmed where the food and litter-boxes were; undoubtedly, her nose led the way in those instances. But, aided by her memory and her whiskers, she is establishing the parameters of her suddenly dark world. It warms my heart to see her eschew the security of the bed to venture out into the new world that is, and is not, like the old one.

As more than one reader has mentioned, blindness need not end a cat’s life, or her enjoyment of life. With her strong sense of smell, and her acute hearing, Cammie can be stimulated by the world almost as much as by her eyes. Furthermore, as she grows older - she is fourteen now - age will naturally restrict her movements, and her desire to move; mobility, and the sight normally required for it, will become less vital. For now, however, I will do my best to help my friend adjust. Nothing, except the odd cat-toy and box, will be displaced; I will announce my presence and try to stay out of her way when she is walking; convenience for her will be arranged. I hope to do nothing to thwart what seems to be her ambition to live as normal a life as possible, even though she is blind.