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Aug. 7th, 2023 04:23 pmUp until a few weeks ago, my mother had a cat.
The Shadow was informally adopted from a family whose dogs were a bit too much for an elderly declawed* feline. She adapted without visible upset to my parents’ house and habits, and spent the next few years sitting on boxes, demanding food early in the morning, and occasionally hitting Mom up for pets.
She wasn’t the cat my mother wanted, being independent and rarely cuddly, but she would sometimes sleep on Mom’s hip at night, and quickly learned that the physical therapy exercises that required lying down put Mom’s hand at the perfect height for scritches.
Recently The Shadow’s thyroid issues got worse, and my mother had to let her go. Apparently she passed peacefully, without fear.
We don’t really know her history; she was already at least eleven years old when Mom adopted her. She was quite content, but never seemed to bond with my mother, simply accepting everything as her due.
Which is why it’s a little surprising that she’s still around.
I haven’t spotted her yet myself, but Mom sees her pass by on occasion, on some ghost-feline business intent. Why her, out of the six cats that have dwelt there over the decades,** we do not know. But, y’know, she’s welcome.
I’m just waiting for my dad to notice her. *evil grin*
*She came that way. We would never.
**My money would have been on Secondhand Rose, who ruled the house with an iron paw, but oh well.
The Shadow was informally adopted from a family whose dogs were a bit too much for an elderly declawed* feline. She adapted without visible upset to my parents’ house and habits, and spent the next few years sitting on boxes, demanding food early in the morning, and occasionally hitting Mom up for pets.
She wasn’t the cat my mother wanted, being independent and rarely cuddly, but she would sometimes sleep on Mom’s hip at night, and quickly learned that the physical therapy exercises that required lying down put Mom’s hand at the perfect height for scritches.
Recently The Shadow’s thyroid issues got worse, and my mother had to let her go. Apparently she passed peacefully, without fear.
We don’t really know her history; she was already at least eleven years old when Mom adopted her. She was quite content, but never seemed to bond with my mother, simply accepting everything as her due.
Which is why it’s a little surprising that she’s still around.
I haven’t spotted her yet myself, but Mom sees her pass by on occasion, on some ghost-feline business intent. Why her, out of the six cats that have dwelt there over the decades,** we do not know. But, y’know, she’s welcome.
I’m just waiting for my dad to notice her. *evil grin*
*She came that way. We would never.
**My money would have been on Secondhand Rose, who ruled the house with an iron paw, but oh well.
