So my BFF called me last night, pretty upset because her beloved 16 year old cat was really sick. She was at the emergency vet waiting to hear if Vallie was going to make it through the night. After I hung up, I started to think about all of the women I know who have had to go through this lately. If you've read the blog for awhile, you remember that we had to put my 17 year old cat to sleep a few months back, and my other 17 year old cat is slowing way down. I remember Linda D. had to go through this even more recently. Another gal from my son's school had to deal with this right before school got out for summer.
I think I have it figured out. We are all women of a certain age (meaning that we are watching the big 4-0 recede in the rearview mirror), and all of these cats were pretty old when they died. Which means that we all got them when we were just out of school, probably with our first real apartment or house and feeling like we were finally mature enough to care for something more complicated than a plant, but not a husband or - ack! - kids. These were our first shot at caring for something living, and lo and behold, they went on to live to 97 or so in cat years. Even though it's a bummer to have to go through the death of a cat that has been with you throughout your whole growing-up phase, it seems as though in the end, we all did a pretty good job.
BTW - Vallie made it through, and hopefully with meds has some good times left in her.
On this date: In 1971, the Bee Gees had their first No. 1 hit with How Can You Mend A Broken Heart.
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
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1 comment:
Oh, how I wish you were right about the age of my poor Shadow when I had to put him down. He was only 6 years old, and was one of the newest members of our family.
But I do understand what you mean. My old old kitty from when I was a teenager was the hardest one to let go of when he died, for that very reason. Very insightful of you to recognize that. I sure didn't see it.
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