Readers of this blog are aware that I am the chief caregiver for my daughter’s geriatric Tabby Cat.
She is almost 17 years old and prone to kidney failure. My daughter used to joke with worry that the cats would outlive me and she would end up having to take them in. Well, one cat down (Snuggles in 2019) but this one is still holding on.
The Cat’s name is Geneva, which I use when speaking fondly to her, responding to her demands and providing hugs. When referring to the expenses, emotional toll and cleanups, I just use “the Cat”.
The old girl recently had a couple of Vet visits to monitor her blood sugar levels, kidneys and general health. A neighbour loaned me her pet stroller for the most recent visit instead of me stuffing her into a carrier and taking taxis. I may need it again next week. I cannot bring myself to purchase one. I swore I would never become “that person”.
How far must one go to provide a good quality of life for family pets without breaking the bank- or becoming a stereotype?
The Cat is on a low-carb diet, special $$ canned food with a bit of variety by adding mainstream brands of pate.
She recently had an episode after waking up from a nap, walking wobbly, sniffing along the floor, walls, corners then seeking dark places. When the Cat did this a couple of years ago, a work friend called it “checking for monsters”. I thought it might be a reaction to the heat and recent Insulin injections. I had to hold her up to eat and drink but she was not interested.
By supper time she was back to normal as if nothing happened, requesting pick-ups for a hug and dance around the room. She is getting her peepee business inside the litter box again. I bought two new boxes last month to accommodate her needs. The second one (Litter Locker) seems to serve well. The Vet’s office agreed it was wise to discontinue the Insulin injections until her next checkup.
I was so exhausted by the recent demands and cleanups that I had a dream I was back with my young family, caring for a new baby and changing poopy diapers. Yikes!
The following Saturday, a Robin fledgling landed in our yard and sought shelter from the rain. He frequently called out for his parents, causing my maternal instincts to flare up again.
We had to keep the cat inside until a parent arrived and attempted to feed the little goofball. It was sadly comical. By Sunday afternoon he was gone, hopefully flown away to rejoin the family.
The Tabby Cat seems back to normal but less energetic due to the heat and humidity. Me too!
Please share, comment (and commiserate) if you are also supporting an aging pet and helping the Vet purchase a new boat.
Thanks for dropping by. Take care. Be kind.
Reblogged this on Deep Blonde Thoughts and commented:
I think that maternal instincts never cease.
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