Twenty One

Got a cat going on 21 years of age. An uncle found her in a tree log along the Ohio river up in Marietta while he was fishing. Not sure how she got there, she was in a dead tree and was only a week or 2 old. We had to bottle feed her and rub her but to make her go to the bathroom.

She was always a bit wild. You’d walk by and she’d spit at you. She’s been shot, rode atop a truck from Bulaville Pike to the Silver bridge Plaze (was in the bed of the truck when pawpaw started out, didn’t know she was there). She lost some fur off her chin at the end of that one. 
She disappeared one day and was gone about 4 months. My granny gave up hope of seeing her again. Then, one rainy night she popped up, clung to a window screen, wanting in.

She loved perching in a dark corner of a high kitchen cabinet or her favorite, atop the shoulders of a tall man. She hasn’t done that in years. As wild as she was back then she really was never the typical hunter. Though she did slip in the door once with half a rabbit carcass. GROSS!

In old age, she is so much more loving but a lot of work. Messy toilet habits and medical conditions. She does things she’s never done before, like demanding to drink from running water, even the garden hose. You can’t leave the butter out anywhere anymore. Shes also kid friendly.

I’m aware her time is dwindling down and I think about that all the time. I think about her all the time. She’s brought me back to a time I knew long before I had kids, when I was in touch with animals. When I could connect with them and know them. There’s something about her age is seems that’s brought a sense of peace to not only me, but those who meet her. Shes always been somewhat of a special kitty.