[cat adventures…]

[cat adventures…]

Life often throws a curved ball you don’t expect.

Last Monday morning, I kissed my cat good bye and went to work. Everything was great and as usual.

In the evening, I came home, opened the front door…

My cat and I have a tradition (yes, after 19 years together, you get traditions even with your cat.) I come home, and she’s right there…

But there was no one there.


I came in, looked around, and saw her standing on the bed, looking sleepy. “Oh well, guess I opened the door too fast and she didn’t have time to wake up and come.”

However, it wasn’t so simple. As she clumsily got off the bed, I saw that she is limping. Both front and back right legs didn’t seem to work or were painful.

“What happened, Liz?”

I looked at her paws, wondering whether she just got hurt jumping on the table or something. Nothing… apart from limping and very tired look.

Although she is quite old (133 cat years / 19 human years), she was never sick, so I decided to watch her.

On Tuesday morning, she didn’t get up from the bed at all when I said her most favorite word: “Kooshat” (which means “come eat,” but sometimes I suspect she thinks it’s her name). She always was running to the kitchen, often getting tangled in my feet as I sleepily stumbled to get her something for breakfast. Not that day.

I got really worried.

Finally talking to the vet, I arranged for her to come take a look at my cat on Thursday. Mom said she’ll come too. I needed all the moral support I could get.

Wednesday was wasted for me because all I could think of was vet’s visit and what she would tell me.

“It’s cancer. She’s got a month.”

“She’s 19 years old after all. There is nothing I can do.”

“Let’s spare her the misery and pain and put her to sleep.”

There were so many possibilities and none seemed encouraging.


Finally the Day of the Vet came.

I hoped I was ready, but every time I looked at my miserably limping furry monster, my heart just squeezed into a tiny ball of anxiety.

… Long story short, turned out Liz had a stroke.

But I am thankful because it means that with pills, she stands a chance of recovering fully (even if I have to get creative trying to get her to eat those pills).

I am thankful because I still have her at my side.

I am thankful and was on the verge of tears when I came home on Friday and Liz met me at the door. Still limping, but we’re getting though it.

I am thankful because God has answered my desperate prayers (or, I guess, those were more like pleas for help).

I am thankful because I can look again into those bright blue eyes and see my reflection and feel her tongue washing my hands.

And it’s not as if I wasn’t thankful before (just ask anyone who ever made a mistake of asking me about my cat… I can talk about her for hours…), but this week’s trial made her even more precious to me.


  • Susan

    She reminds me of our Baby Doll, who was a birman cat. She was ten when we adopted her from a family who had adopted her from the Humane Society. She faithfully cared for all of us two-legged creatures until she was nearly 19. I still miss her even though we now have George Bailey. He was a member of our feral colony until we brought him indoors.

    • Wow, she lived a long life too, huh? My vet said that all cats have ability to live up to 25 years, but not all manage that… I am hoping for at least that 😀

      Is George Bailey also a birman cat?

      • Susan

        George Bailey is a marmalade tabby with a white mask, white socks, a white belly and weighs around 15 pounds. I have never been owned by such a gentle and loving cat in my life. I’m not certain he really is a cat. He spends his time loving on me and sleeping and playing with our elderly Shih Tzu dogs. They are about 14 years old.

        Baby Doll hung in there until each of my children had found their spouse or spouse to be. Then, I guess, she felt her job was done. 🙂

  • Not a cat person at all lil sis, but can feel your pain. Now that I have a grandson who is allergic to pets, there will be neither a cat (never was) or a dog (only once) in our house. But I have a secretary who had to put her Husky down after a cancerous tumor grew so large it was inevitable. They loved her like a child. Callie knew it. Your “baby” know it also.

    • I hope she does 🙂

      I cannot imagine the pain of having to put your animal down (but I suspect that I will probably experience that).

      Pet allergies are no fun 🙁 (Although, I guess all allergies are not fun… even though I don’t have any known…)

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