Fine Feline


This is how she prefers to watch television.

The cat, apparently, was astonishingly healthy.

“I’ve never seen an eleven year old cat that had nothing come up on the blood work.” The vet told me when he called with the results of her tests. 

This was welcome news. We’d brought her in to the vet on Saturday for an annual checkup and the preliminary response was that she was in good health. But eleven years old counts as ‘elder’ in cat years, so the vet recommended a complete blood panel… Just to, you know, be sure. It’s not a cheap test: several hundred dollars on top of the exam, and right at the leading edge of the holiday season. Last year I’d put it off: ten seemed too young to be pushing for a lot of elder care.

But then again, last year I’d had two cats. Now I just have the one. I still sometimes wonder whether getting the blood test done would have warned us about the tumor. Mostly I assume that it wouldn’t have made much difference, but there’s still that little voice that asks what if? So this year I got the test done. And the results were resoundingly good. 

Whew.

I’m relieved, but not really surprised. The cat, Tortuga (Tuga for short) doesn’t act like an eleven year old cat. She is small- has always been small- and cuddly like a kitten. She avidly runs laps around the house, even if the hardwood floors necessitate parkour techniques in order to turn the corners. If I’m not paying attention to her VERY CLEAR signals that she wants to be picked up, then she will climb me like a tree and make herself comfortable on my shoulders like a fur stole. If I’m not wearing a heavy enough sweater, she has no compunction about digging her claws into human flesh to keep her balance. 

Then again, I’m just the hand that feeds. It is the Curmudgeonly Lion who is her special friend. If he is reclining at his desk, she will climb into his chest and curl up under his chin. If he is sitting on the couch she will find some comfortable nook to settle down in. If he is napping she makes a point of stretching out beside him. Or, if he’ll tolerate it, on top of him. He tolerates this attention with a kind of resigned satisfaction: he is adamantly Not A Cat Person, but there’s no such thing as not being a Tuga person. 

~ by Gwydhar Gebien on November 13, 2017.

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