My Vision

Taken in 2009, when Vision was a youngster, really, at 15.

 My Vision began a frantic dance this morning.  She would suddenly squat and pee on the flour after raking the floor briefly with her hind legs.  She would then pee only a tiny amount.  I knew this was trouble.  But what happened to have this come on so suddenly?

I thought 'Infection.  Urinary crystals!  Blockage from stones, crystals or cancer!  Spinal cord damage from falling off the cat run in the night when I didn't see.'

I put her in the bathroom.  She was peeing after all and still eating and drinking.  I called the vet who said collect a urine sample, which I did, then I spilled it.  The vet left early so tomorrow will be the day.  The sample showed no blood, but was cloudy.  'Ah,' I thought, relieved.  'Probably infection.'  She's doing better, resting comfortably, upset to be confined.   Honey, her best friend, is circling outside the bathroom door, worried.  But Vision wants none of Honey's overt affection right now.  She wants only me.

When I called the vet, again they didn't remember me.  Oh well.   I don't think it even registered when I said the cat is 20 years old.  Oh well.  Yes, Vision is ancient and lately looks like she could star in her own horror movie.  Just kidding.  But she is old and her long hair has always looked unkempt, even though I trim it up best I can.  She's got the half closed sunken eye left over from that horrible fall last August when I thought it was all over for her.  She's making me nervous again lately because she's back up walking the high runs.  Gosh, is that a death wish for a 20 year old or what. That was my first thought when I saw her behaving that way this morning---she's fallen and injured her spine.

Taken in May of 2014, a month shy of her 20th birthday.

Taken in late August 2014, after she fell in early August, from a high cat run, hitting in three places on the way down, but badly injuring her right eye.  

With Honey, her best friend.

 She loves being held and petted now, purrs her head off, spikes her back up in a big arch when I run my hand down along her sides, likes her chin scratched.  She's a sweety in her old age.  I'll probably be a nasty mean swearing poorly maintained rude hag.  I'd like to think I'd age with grace like Vision, however.  I look at her and vow that's who I'll be once I'm really really old, if I make it that old.

I don't think I want to be so old everything aches and hurts and people stare and kids make mean comments and people look away and doctors sigh over outliving usefulness and medicare costs.  I'd rather go out somewhere and leap off a cliff with one last joyous whoop.  While I can still leap.  And still whoop!

I am totally uncomfortable with playing god with cats lives and saying "now it's time you die".  I can't do that with friends.   She still has fun, sleeps with friends, eats and drinks and purrs and watches birds and twitches in dreams.

Vision is my friend.  I don't know if she'll get over this or not.  The vet at Heartland told me she's seen a few super old cats like Vision and the thing with super old cats is they can be fine one day, but then one tiny little thing is too much and they're gone.

I hope this is not Visions' tiny little thing.

Hang in there old gal.