They Say Cats Have Nine Lives

I’m (gratefully) convinced our cat has many more than nine.

Today is our cat's 18th birthday and his age is catching up with him.

His skeleton feels bony when I pet him. Sometimes he just sits and stares into place, or lets out pitiful yowls for no apparent reason. His whiskers are often coated with particles of food and his backside with who-knows-what. When he uses his litter box, more often than not anymore, he misses it and body waste and fluids flow down the side. He swings his back hips strangely when he walks, and his gait has become timid from arthritis. He has a funky smell and his fur is rough and patchy.

This feline member of our family has always been ornery and destructive. The veterinarian's office attached a label on his chart, warning all their employees that our cat is “very fractious.” He’s unfriendly (actually quite ferocious) to everyone except my family, and he is a lot of work. 

BUT ––He loves me unconditionally, possibly more than any living creature ever has. I can't imagine life without him.

Our beloved cat turned 18 today, and he’s been a member of our family since he was just 6-weeks old. We adopted him to satisfy my daughter's intense longing for a cat, but it was he and I who formed the strongest bond. Perhaps that's because he became ours on Mother's day. The amount of days and months and years this cat has lived in our house now equals or exceeds that of either of our now-grown children. 

I worry it will soon be time to say goodbye. Will he tell me when he’s ready to go, or will he just slip silently away? 

In the past year or two, I’ve said farewell to this treasured cat multitude of times. I’ve held him and I’ve cried, convinced he wouldn’t make it through the night. On each of those occasions, he proved to me the saying that cats all have nine lives. In his case, we could probably adjust that number upwards to 15, or so.

For years, our kitty’s been on a slew of meds for irritable bowel syndrome and decreased renal function. So far, the prescription food, pills, gels, and injections have been working. We’ve had a few diabetic scares, only to find out diabetes did not cause his problems; instead he suffered from severe urinary tract infections which cleared up with antibiotics. 

Eighteen years seems like a long life for a cat, but it doesn’t feel like enough time to spend with this one. This sentiment seems mutual; though old and frail, our cranky cat still appears to be enjoying life with us. Just when I’m convinced his arthritis badly threatens his mobility, I spy him nimbly getting onto a kitchen counter or teasing our big dog. He seems as happy as he’s ever been, especially when he’s nestled in my lap or stretched out in a ray of sunshine, puddling on the floor.

Our elderly cat’s end-of-life is probably not too far away. But today he’ll get some happy birthday treats as we reminisce and celebrate his life. 

Who knows, if we are lucky enough, perhaps this time next year we’ll be celebrating his birthday when he turns 19. That would be so nice.

Please keep social distancing, wear a mask, wash your hands, get vaccinated, and stay healthy! 😷 This post contains affiliate links. The opinions expressed, however, are entirely my own.

A Life's Scent

Every week, Delores of Under the Porch Light provides a writing challenge to bloggers called Words for Wednesday. She provides a prompt from which writers are encouraged to “write a piece of flash fiction.” You can read more about this challenge at the end of this post.

I decided it would be fun to participate, so I'm writing from a “Words for Wednesday” prompt today. I hesitated, unsure of whether a work of fiction would fit with the niche of this blog. I typically provide informational anecdotes and tips regarding how to make the most of every moment.  Then I realized, the fictional protagonist of my story tells an informational anecdote of just this sort!  

I am a little nervous to share a fictional piece of my writing for the first time.  I will need to hit “publish” as soon as I finish this, so I don't lose my nerve! 

A Life's Scent.

She rocked back and forth in the worn wood of her comfortable rocker, enjoying a morning on the porch.  She could hear her granddaughter inside, rattling pans in the kitchen, preparing breakfast for the two of them.
 
The invigorating smell of freshly-made drip coffee reached her nostrils from the open window. It was suddenly overpowered by an acrid smell of gasoline, as the neighbor boy topped off the tank of her old mower. He was preparing to mow her lawn. As so often happened lately, a flood of memories were triggered by these odors.  She noted with surprise, that each phase of her adult life could be associated with a particular scent.

College was the time of strong coffee odors.  Late night studies were always fueled by cup after cup, into which she mixed milk and sugar back then.  She missed the sound of a percolator, replaced by drip machines and now even the hiss of espresso makers.  She remembered with pride the young woman she had been at the time - a trailblazer in her field.
 
During the years of mothering her babies, her nostrils would inhale deeply, trying to capture the sweet smell of her children. And who could forget the burning odor of ammonia in the diaper pail!  Oh well, she mused, better that, than the stench of diapers soggy with poop and pee.

Fresh cut grass.  When they moved from their city apartment to an acreage, she had loved the scent of newly mowed grass wafting in through their open windows.  Her teenage son would spend hours mowing the grass, bribed by an allowance based on the completion of the task.  She sucked the presently green-smelling air into her old lungs, as her mower went up and down her lawn. It was her son Owen (forever a teenager in her mind's eye) that she pictured behind it, not the neighbor boy.  She sighed, the pain of losing him so young still felt like an open wound.

She had not pumped gas, or even learned to drive, until after becoming middle-aged. Her husband had been older than her by nine years.  Until his stroke, he always drove and took care of the car.  When he was no longer able, those responsibilities fell upon her.  She became a competent driver, but always disliked getting the smell of gas on her hands from the handle at the gas pump.  She never could understand why the handle would have gas on it!

Her granddaughter brought out a tray with breakfast, interrupting her travel back in time. Alongside the plate of scrambled eggs and toast was a vase, filled with roses from the garden.  She leaned forward to inhale their heady scent, and closed her eyes, remembering.

After a moment, she fixed her gaze on her granddaughter and said, "When you are my age, there will be a smell that reminds you of every good moment in your life.  For me, it is the smell of roses.  My mother wore a rose-scented perfume.  Roses were in my wedding bouquet.  My children always gave me roses on Mother's day.  And now my grandchild takes care of me, and brings me bouquets of the roses from my garden. A sense of smell has a way of transporting you back in time - so make sure you live many good moments to return to.”

The elderly woman realized that at times her life had smelled like coffee and baby poop, fresh cut grass and gasoline.  It was the scent of roses though, that best represented her long life, filled with some sorrow but many moments of joy.

The perfume of roses from my garden fills the air,
even days after being picked and their petals begin to fall.

The prompt which inspired this piece was: 

"life smells like coffee and baby poop, fresh cut grass and gasoline"

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I would encourage you to take the Words for Wednesday challenge, whether or not you choose to publish what you write.  I found it really enjoyable to write something from a prompt.  (I hope you enjoyed reading it too!)

Here is part of the explanation Dolores provided on her blog about the weekly Words for Wednesday challenge:

“The prompt could be a selection of words, a photo, an idea or a couple of sentences you can use to start a piece of flash fiction.  Write a poem or a story using as much or as little of the prompt as you please or offer us something entirely different as a prompt.  There are no deadlines, no rules...just a bit of good clean fun.” 

Delores generously encourages authors of these works to post what they write either on their own blogs (be sure to link back to her blog  if you do!) or in the comments section on her post.  Before I decided to participate, I read several posts based on the six words (essence, flippant, mercury, speeding, nonchalant, shadowed) that she provided yesterday. Rather than risk my imagination might be influenced by the stories I had read, today I chose to use the phrase mentioned above, which she provided as an optional prompt to write about.

What sort of story comes to your mind when you read this phrase?

Maybe you should write your own story now!

This post was linked to the Motivational Monday Link Party