I can’t believe…

I’ve been searching my postings, and can’t believe I’ve never posted about this.

All through cancer therapy, my stupid cat wouldn’t let me alone.

No matter where I was – the office, on the couch in the living room, on my bed, she was by my side.

Now she’s old and fat. Literally the old lady that lays in bed watching her stories. She’s almost 20. And we moved, which is tough on cats. All she does is hang on the bed, maybe in Herself’s office.

We’d love to let the dogs hang out in the back of the house, but it’s not right. Not fair. She’s an old lady and she deserves some measure of comfort. Although she has no problem delivering a beating should the dogs venture back.

She was a stray that we adopted. Her fosters did an amazing job of socializing her.

She’s been my buddy since we first met.

Now she’s old.

And I won’t do crap. I don’t care how crazy she gets. She’s picky about her litter. She’ll piss outside the box if she doesn’t like it. And Herself uses the bathroom where the litter box is. I get it. It sucks to get up to work and find cat piss on the floor.

Use the master bath then.

She’s old. She’s earned it.

I don’t know if I can sleep if she’s not on my knees or next to me.

I can’t describe what it’s like to have your head in your hands, sitting in the kitchen in the wee hours of the morning, crying, praying for death to release you from the pain, knowing full well that when the sun comes up you’ll be strapped into a mask and bombarded with radiation, then walked over to the garden of the skeletons for a few hours for chemo, and you have some dumbshit cat headbutt you and tell you it’s OK. Pet me.

Pets like cats and dogs, we don’t deserve them sometimes.

We named her Bonzai, because she’d rocket off the top of the couch, kamikaze style at my daughters cat when she was a small kitten. Fur would fly. But then they became the best of friends.

Sorry.

I’m loyal that way.

She’s been a great cat, a great friend. She can live her life until she’s done. Far as I’m concerned.