I am a horrible pet owner.
Okay, I’m not that bad a pet owner. My cat, as neglected or wronged as she may believe herself to be, is in pretty good shape for an animal that’s 19 years old and closing in on 20 very quickly.
But in her old age, she’s getting noisier, and is sleeping less at night. She’s been waking up at 3 and 4 in the morning, walking around the bed–literally around the bed, from Jenni’s side to mine–crying and meowing to get me up. I tell her to shut up and be quiet, as if I expect her to understand and say “sure, no problem. Sorry about that.” And what is she crying for?
She’s hungry. Or thirsty. Or one morning, she was telling me that she was cold, didn’t want to sleep on the bed, and the furnace wasn’t on at that moment. The thermostat wasn’t set to start raising the temperature in the house for another hour-plus. Okay, okay, I know that it’s a little unbelievable that I can understand what she wants, but she’s not a stupid cat and she’s figured out how to tell me what she needs.
But, she’s always got water. But I do limit her food, because if she eats too much, she tends to hack it all back up within an hour. So she gets rationed. And I’m guessing that this, in her old age, does not please her in the least.
So as a result, I’m tired. And the cat sleeps all day while we’re away.
It ain’t fair, I tell you.
See you tomorrow.