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.


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