The Old Lady

Daisy is my therapist.  I started seeing her when I was in 5th grade, right after my dog had been killed by a bear and my other cat had died of kidney failure.  I named her.  I thought it was a great name for a cat. 

In her old age, she's become fond of people.  When she was younger, she used to hide and spend seconds on your lap.  She was a hunter, too, and brought us gifts.  But now, when I sit down next to her on the couch, a paw slowly taps me on the arm - if I'm not paying attention - and her glassy eyes ask to be pet.  She soon makes her way onto my lap, purring her mind out. 

When I see her just sleeping on a chair, I worry for a second if she's passed on.  She is eighteen years old and frail.  Her fluffy coat hides her bones well, but you can feel each one as you pick her up to hold her.  It takes her a few moments to realize where she is again, if you transplant her from where she's sleeping to a new spot.  She sits up on the couch, staring straight into space, her eyes half open, looking like she's recapping her steps and wondering why she's sitting where she's sitting, as if to say, "Wait a minute, now just wait a minute. A moment ago I wasn't here, I was there.  Where am I now?" When she lifts her foot to scratch behind her ear, she often misses but keeps kicking, slowly.  She also can often be found curled up on the coffee table rather than the couch. 

When she meowed loudly from our landing, the tone of it sounded desperate, making me wonder if she was leaving this world.  After further questioning, I discovered she had to use the kitty litter.  However, she didn't actually use the kitty litter, she used the concrete surrounding it, yet, with her arm outstretched, she continued to carefully scrape and collect the invisible litter. 

As I closed the basement door, leaving home again, Daisy ran up the stairs after I had said a final goodbye from the top of the stairs.  I picked her up in my arms one last time, gave her a kiss and then placed her gently back on the stairs and watched her slowly hop down before I shut the door.  

It gets harder to leave home.