Coming to terms with one’s own mortality is something we all have to face at one time or another during our lives. I’ve had my own share of insightful moments about life, as I’ve seen the health decline of elderly relatives and experienced the aches and pains associated with old age (and I’m only 36). The aging process forces us to make adjustments to meet the limitations that arise, whether we like to accept them or not.
Our pets go through their life cycles much faster than we do, and that point where we need to start making special allowances for them can sneak up on us without warning. I am currently the proud owner of three furry felines, two of which are in the midst of their twilight years. Göst (15 years old) and Betty (10 years old) can relive moments of their youth because of the hyperactivity that Otis (8 months) has, but I can see the effects of aging compared to the young spitfire. . About a year ago I started doing things a little differently to make their lives easier, but since then it’s spiraled into pampering them to the point where they have to think they won the kitty lottery by having me as father.
The first step to facilitate the geriatric state was a dietary adjustment. I started giving them soft food twice a day, mainly for two reasons: it’s easier on brittle teeth and they love it, which means they’ll eat it and maintain their weight. Of course, none of this really applies to Otis right now, which is why he enjoys the benefit of having older brothers.
Lately, Göst has lost weight even though he eats regularly and still has a good appetite (he is the first to come and order the snack). Having seen the decline of a skinny cat in the past year, I don’t beat around the bush and give him almost everything he wants to keep his weight off. This means lots of extra kitty treats and saucers of cream when the other two aren’t looking. He’s past the 12-year life expectancy for his breed (Scottish Fold), and I’d like to keep him a little longer, no matter what it takes.
Betty seems to be going through some kind of cat-like menopause, as she has a new fire in her belly and an attitude that rivals the most irritable teenager. She will hiss at the other two if they look at her funny, much less dare to walk next to her. I know this has a lot to do with the kitten, but her hissing is getting a little out of control. She seems to have rubbed her throat and tends to have hairball-like coughing fits at least once a week. She pampers her endlessly, letting her know that she is loved, even though she believes that she brought Otis to torture her. We have our special time alone when I watch TV in my recliner, which I think she looks forward to every day.
I have also noticed that Göst has been lax in its self-cleaning duties. As an all-white cat, he’s always been very pristine and anal about looking his best, but lately he’s been looking a bit diaper-like. It seems that he spends more time bathing the kitty than he does (and the kitty isn’t that good at returning the favor). He brushes it regularly, and it does a good job of picking up loose hair, but he needed something extra. Enter the ionizing brush that my mother feels me! I don’t claim to fully understand the mechanics (or is it physics?) of the ions, but it seems to be working fine. Göst and Betty have silkier coats and totally enjoy the feeling of being groomed (Otis hasn’t gotten to experience the new brush yet, as he wants to bite it every time he gets close).
To further accommodate my kitties’ needs, I purchased a mini-staircase to make it easier for them to climb onto my bed (their favorite napping destination). I figured this was a necessity as they were having more difficulty with the jump. A couple of years ago I bought a new bed, which included a pillow top mattress. This mattress is about an inch taller than the previous one, so it presented another hurdle (no pun intended) for the elderly couple. Add the bulk of a down comforter and it became quite a daunting task, but they pulled it off.
In the last few months I realized that something had to be done to help them. Betty would get three-quarters full and then work her way to the top as if she were struggling for safety on the edge of a cliff; kind of funny to look at, but not fun for her to go through (nor is it good for the condition of my mattress and bedding). Göst would sit on the ground and try to gauge the trajectory and angle of the jump, contemplating whether he could actually get there or not. It’s a pretty pathetic thing to witness as I can see the frustration in his eyes when he thinks he can’t do it. He sometimes makes the effort, while other times he just walks away feeling despondent instead of repositioning himself to try. They went upstairs almost immediately, and have since become quite used to them… even Otis finds pleasure in them, though he uses them mostly as a jungle gym or launching pad for attack.
If I had to pick one special thing that I do for cats that could be considered overkill, I would probably have to say that I build fires for them in the winter. When they hear me rattling around the fireplace, they come running knowing they’re in for an intense, heat-soaking nap. Of course, I get the benefit of a warm apartment when I have a fire, but mostly I do it because I know the kitties love it, and it’s so cute to see them lying in front of it, oblivious to the world around them. them.