She was at least twenty years old and had become increasingly feeble and had been sliding slowly into dementia for the last couple of years. Lately she had taken up residence on the window seat in the kitchen and the table and chairs next to it, often snoozing in the sun. But within the last few days she had become much more disoriented, less steady on her feet, less aware of where she was and had fallen off the table or chair several times, at the risk of breaking a leg or hip.
She showed up on my doorstep in Walnut Creek the day after Thanksgiving in 1996. The neighbors had gone for a walk down by the canal and she had followed them home, but they were allergic to cats and shooed her away. She had probably been dumped down by the canal.
However, using her feline radar, she promptly trotted across the street to my house. I heard George hissing at something through the window, so I opened the door to see what it was, and she trotted into the house. The three male cats were't pleased with this, but she backed them into the corner, ate their food, played with their toys and curled on their cushion. After a while, I put her back out on the door step, but she curled up on the door mat and went to sleep. It was a cold, nasty night, so I brought her back in and put her in a back room.
The next morning, I put her back out and she went trotting off. A short time later I found her sitting at the back door; having inspected the property, she decided she wanted to stay. And so she stayed.
She was never happy about having to share the house with other cats and wasn't shy about showing her displeasure, but aside from that detail, she had a long and happy life.
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| Working On Her Tan |
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