Though Cammie’s stroke has made her feel her age more than she otherwise would, fifteen years is not the end of a cat’s life. Indeed, Josie is a year older and doing quite well (knock on wood - or the melded fragments of wood-pulp that pass for it these days).
Josie is suffering from mild kidney issues, but nothing that isn’t connected to her advancing years. She has plenty of water-bowls from which to drink, but tends to yell at me if a bowl isn’t freshly filled for her consumption. I don’t mind.
She is active enough to climb cat-trees and steps, to get where she wants to go. She even jumps from time to time from the bed to the cat-tree by the window. It’s encouraging not only that she can accomplish this but that she feels confident enough to attempt it.
My Chubs is not really chubby any more. She continues to lose weight but, as of her last measurement, very gradually. My gratitude is great for her continued appetite. As a cat ages, there is always the danger that she will lose interest in food; that, thankfully, has not been the case with Josie. She does want food in between meals. I always give in to these demands (unless it’s only an hour until the regularly scheduled dinner or snack). Her stomach may not be following the routine, but if it wants filling, I am not about to refuse it, not at Josie’s age. I am also grateful that I can offer her something she likes; right now, it is Merrick’s ‘chicken divan’, though she will eat other foods.
The Great White became more demonstrably affectionate a few years ago, and now we have certain times together. She will periodically turn around on the saddle of the taller bedroom cat-tree and, instead of facing the window to look out, she will lie down toward me, and tell me she wants some face-rubs. As well, she has her place on the bed at night, on the near side by my shoulder. If she finds Renn already there (my big boy comes to bed when I do; Josie arrives later) as she sometimes does, she will squeeze in between and lie or squat still, and very uncomfortably. Renn usually moves; I sometimes urge him away, as he has his own spot on my other side.
Josie and I have been together for more than eleven years now. She will be sixteen this summer. Despite her seniority, she is in good health and seems happy with her life. Comfy places to lie, a spot on the bed at night; water whenever she wants it - even if it isn’t always as fresh as she likes - and plenty of tasty food; even a short excursion out into the exciting corridor beyond the apartment’s front door: Josie doesn’t demand much, and enjoys what she has. I hope it is enough to make her happy, because she makes me happy.