Life Changes


I’ve always found it interesting how we change as we go through life – without really trying.  We change in response to trials and tribulations, to good times, to jobs and friends and family and more.

The people who are around us change, too, in two ways.  The people who are around us and remain around us change in response to our changes, as we do in response to theirs.  In addition, the people who are around us change – some stay, and some go, because the dynamic between you no longer fits.  That’s ok.

This has been on my mind a lot lately because of my old girl, Dusty.  (If you haven’t yet “met” Dusty, go check out “Welcome, and Introduction to Pets” where she’s introduced)

When Dusty came to me as a 6-week old kitten, she already had a well-developed personality.  She was smart and secretive, independent, a great hunter, and occasionally playful.  Earning her trust was work, but I did it.

As she matured, she claimed her place as the unofficial head of our household.  She led us on walks down the lake road, running ahead to check that all was safe, and then returning to shepherd us along the route she’d determined was acceptable.  She let us know when it was time to turn around about a kilometre later, and repeated the process on our return route, to guide us safely back

She supervised her brother, Talcum, and spent weeks searching for him when he went missing years ago, dragging me along to “interpret” for other humans.  When we acquired a couple of younger boy-cats, she mothered them, washing their faces before dinner, and chastising them when she felt their behaviour was inappropriate.

As she aged, Dusty started to ignore other cats and seek out her human family – or at least, me – a little more, looking for snuggles, or just a nap on a corner of the bed.  She didn’t dislike other cats so much as she no longer related to them.

 At nearly eighteen (about 90 in human years), she now seems to suffer from dementia, as well as a variety of other old-age-related ailments ranging from hairballs to digestion.  She periodically stands in the middle of a room, wondering why she’s there, or stares at her food dish as though she’s unsure of its contents.  She’s on a great assortment of medications to help with arthritis, dementia and digestion, and these regular additions to her food take longer than feeding all the cats combined.  Her latest digestive issues leave us in a challenging quandary.  She’s noticeably underweight despite eating the equivalent of 10% of her body (or more) each day, and what none of the treatments thus far have done is to reverse her weight loss.  We’re hopeful on the current one, but all of this brings clearly into focus one truth:  someday in the likely not-too-distant future, we’ll have to say goodbye to Dusty.
 
Right now, her primary objective in any given day is to spend as much time as possible sleeping on me.  Required conditions include me in my recliner, feet up, blanket on, with limited disruption.  She’ll stay that way for hours till I stiffen up and have to move her to get coffee or wine/take a bio break/something else.  With all her changes, we’re grateful for every moment with have with our confused, squawky girl.  Yes, she’s annoying sometimes (particularly when you’re in the kitchen and she’s convinced that breakfast #7 is needed urgently). 


But we’re her people, and I know we’re the right people for her, and she’s the right girl for us.  In the words of Dr. Seuss (Theodore Geisel) “The people who mind don’t matter, and the people who matter don’t mind.”  We don’t mind that much.

Today’s lesson?  (in my words)  If the important things matter, don’t mind the rest.


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

In the Fall

Image
  Have you ever had one of those serious “ah ha” moments?  While I’ve had a few, I would say that on a dramatic scale, September 28 th was far and above the winner in this. It started out like any other day – it completely changed me.   You see, I fell three steps from a ladder.   Doesn’t sound like much, does it?   Three steps, that’s barely a stumble.   But the people who say “it’s not the fall, it’s the landing – well, they’re right”.   It was definitely the landing that did me in.   One minute I was on the third step of a stepladder in a client’s house, peering into the attic.   The next thing I remember is being on the floor, and looking down at my right foot.   It wasn’t at the end of my leg where it was supposed to be.   It was beside my ankle.   Trust me, that’s not a good place for a foot to be, and as I looked at it, I started to realize that it hurt.   A lot.   I laid back down, bent my left knee, and put my right – sideways – foot on it.   Carefully, because even th
Read more

September 28th, and positive thinking

Do you ever find that there are days that, well, stick in your memory? I know I do. This is one of them. 2,191 days ago, it was also Friday, September 29th, but in 2017. Today, I'm sitting at my computer, typing this, but then, I was lying in a hospital bed. There was a morphine drip in one arm, and my right ankle was resting on a half-cast, and thoroughly wrapped in bandages. The surgeon I'd met late the previous night was sitting by my bed, explaining things to me. To say I didn't fully understand them at the time would be a large understatement. I hadn't even seen yet what my repaired ankle looked like, but it was no longer sideways, and I was no longer in agonizing pain. (The morphine was probably a factor in that...). Somewhere in my mind, I still thought I'd just get up and walk normally once this was done. Reality, though, doesn't always work the way we want it to. Sometimes, reality sucks and we have to live with it. Letting yourself believe in what w
Read more
Image
Have you ever noticed that the ease of forgiving seems pretty subjective? It varies so much on the what, the who, the why. As with so many lessons, I’m reminded of a story. My youngest son was about 5 years old. And, like most children of that age, he had something special. In his case, it was “Soft”. Soft was a double-sided flannel receiving blanket made years before by my grandmother for my oldest son. It passed through two children before its bond with my youngest son, who gave it even more love than my grandmother had put into it. Soft was life. It went to school, folded in the bottom of his backpack. It slept with him. It was dragged around the house, went to sleepovers, and was rarely far from his side. His other pride and joy around that time was a hamster. This was a well-loved hamster – the kind that’s handled often, comes readily to a hand in the cage, and doesn’t bite or nip. The hamster lived in a cage at the end of his bed. You can probably see where this is going…
Read more