He wants to jump up there--Buddah does all the time--but he knows he can't quite make it anymore.
Worse, he remembers when he could do it, because it wasn't all that long ago.
Now the house is cluttered with things he can use to get to places he used to be able to jump without any effort. There's a cube by the bed, so that he can get up to nap or to bug me as I sleep. There's another cube by my desk for him to use to get onto the cat tree that where he lounges while we work. Buddah's favorite tree is on the other side of the kitchen counter, and Max uses that to sneak up there and steal Buddah's snacks; he hasn't been able to jump from the floor to the counter in over a year.
I imagine there will be a day soon when we have to get shorter things, so that he can get onto the cubes that allow him onto the places he likes to be.
But there's nothing I can do to help him get to the top of the china cabinet, where he seems to want to be right now.
There's also nothing I can do to help him get from the top of his cat tree in the spare room to the top of the wardrobe, where he loved to hide. Now he lounges in the middle of the floor in that room, reasoning, I think, that it's his room. Buddah rarely goes in there; I rarely go in there. So it's his room, and if he can't get up high, he's going to take up as much floor as he can.
He's still healthy, but his age is really starting to show; in roughly 8 weeks he turns 16, the oldest cat I've ever had. I have no doubt he'll be around for that, but beyond? I'm honestly not expecting him to see 17.
This isn't a weepy kind of post; don't worry about him yet...I just want to prepare those who have followed him online since he was three years old. He's not just getting old now; he is old, and his days are more likely numbered in weeks and months and not years.
Right now he wants me to open a can of gravy-laden gooshy food. If he doesn't like the flavor, I'll open another one. And of course I will, because old men should have what they want when they want it.
9 comments:
Nothing wrong with spoiling old mancats
Don't give up on 17 yet. It was 2 years after Putter stopped jumping before she got sick. She went from her cat tree to my desk to the feeding table. They were all on the same level. When the pups came along she would drop to my chair when I was weaving and watch the pups play. If I was on the computer she would crawl into my lap and stretch out on my chest. Impossible to type but I could use the mouse easily. That was the greatest time with her. I am sure that Max will give you the same in whatever time he has. He is the only one that really knows. Love to you, Max, Buddah and the Spouse Thingy.
I'd say Max is a pretty content cat despite being unable to go where he used to...plus he gets gooshy food. Life is pretty darn good.
My Sasha will be 17 in May. I see him getting thinner but so far he's happy, eats well, snuggles with Sami, and turns around to chase Saku in turn. I'm grateful he's still here with me but hope that when the day comes he goes easily.
Eileen
We adapt to what we can do now. Yeah, the old times are good to amember, but we gotta live for the now. Nearly 17? Wow.
Thank you for being open and honest. I have thought about him a lot. We will keep him in our purrs and prayers! He is a major player in so many lives!
I understand. Max and you were there for me when Skeeter turned 16 and had problems. I guess I have been around long enough (since 2006) so that all the cats I knew when I started will be over The Bridge soon. It is getting hard at both ends.
There are days when I hesitate turning on the computer for fear of seeing one more cat going over The Bridge. I will admit to being an easy crier. Each one leaves me using a box of Kleenex. But I would rather cry than not.
I know that Max is old and can't stay forever. But he is special to me. He's the 1st cat blog I found, and he is a model to us all. I've mourned the passing of many cats. But when Max goes, the cat blogosphere will never be the same.
The day will come. But you know how some cats seem to continue as "angels"? Don't do that. I am pretty sure Max wouldn't like it. When the time comes, the time comes...
I hope it is years from now...
Mark
When Twee was growing up, she became very confused and upset by the fact that the places she liked to be started to get smaller and smaller (not realizing she was the one getting bigger) when she no longer fit on my chest - it was a hard day. Have you tried cosequin or other similar products? A lot of people are finding success with Adequan with older kitties.
Don't give up. My parents had a cat that made it to 21. We will all be in tears the day he passes.
I've followed this Blog for years, but the only reason that I found it is due to Max. The thought of his Blog stopping, of him stopping, is not one that I'd allowed myself to contemplate, though you are right of course.
Poignantly, this post comes at a time that our own cat - Suzie - appears to have started to succumb to her failing kidneys. She is coming up to 22, and has had a very good life, considering the start she had (we rescued her from an abusive home when she was a little over a year old). The vets have been very supportive and positive, and she is in no way suffering, but she is definitely flagging and the Bridge seems to be edging uncomfortably near.
I know they don't live forever; no-one does (when I allow my brain to think about it, the helpless knowledge my own death fills me with a morbid dread similar to the one you voiced a few years back), and I know that close to 22 years old is a 'good age' for a cat, just as I know that close to 12 is a 'good age' for a Labrador (though with the average being 12-15, the latter is on the low end of the lifespan scale), but...I'm not ready. I look at Suzie, our lovely, cunning, inncouragable, stubborn, timid, bullying Suzie, and I just think '...please, no...not yet, no...'
So, I understand those upsetting but unavoidable thoughts that are entering your head now when you look at your own bundle of fur (though you appear to be dealing with the issue far more philosophically than I am, right now).
One thing is certain, in any case. Suzie, Max, all of the cats mentioned above: they are all loved with a deep passion that non-pet owners (and, sadly, even some that do have pets) find baffling, by people prepared to do whatever it takes for them to be well cared for and as happy as possible.
We'll all of us do right by them, no matter what.
And in the end, that's all that matters, isn't it?
Alice. X
Post a Comment