It’s been more than eleven months since Cammie had her stroke and lost her sight. She adapted remarkably well, and rather swiftly, to her blindness, though, of course, I can judge only the practical evidence; how she fared mentally and emotionally she keeps a secret. I believe, however, that she has adjusted well to those facets of her disability, too.
She spends most of her time in the bedroom, in her snug little heated cat-bed, with its adjacent cup of water. She climbs the cat-tree to the window when it is open, and makes her way to a litter-box in the store-room when she needs it. (During the day, when I sequester her in the bedroom to increase her safety and reduce her stress, she has her own litter-box and bowl of food.)
My princess also wanders out to the sitting room, from time to time, and, now that the warmer weather has arrived, and the windows are open more frequently, and for longer periods, she explores the scents and sounds available to her in that venue. This is especially the case now that the sun has returned to our northern latitudes. She does not need her eyes to enjoy the warmth of the rays when they fall upon her grey furs, and she spends quite a long time lazing in the brightness that she can probably vaguely discern only a little.
These are the days and nights - for nocturnal fragrances have their own stories to tell - that I enjoy, for the sake of my cats. A window opened is a new world opened, and that is especially true for Cammie. When the sun beams, and the outside comes in, she lives a life that is less restricted and not as dark as it usually is for her, and for a few hours, she can see again, if only with her nose and ears.