Propping up a dodgy memory

Cally's final appointment made with Dr Laura tomorrow at 10:15am. Second of its type in under a month. Third in under 18 months. Fuck. Thanks everyone for your kind words over on FB.

Cally herself has made the timing of the decision relatively easy - she's had enough. I'm a wreck, even more so than for the others. She's been a huge part of my life for 20 years, and I've always been her one and only human. 20 years! I've spent more time with her than with any person, Husband included. She's drawn significantly more of my blood than Husband has too. People started telling me to prepare for her loss seven years ago when she was a mere 14. Suddenly I find I'm not prepared at all.

Because Cally and Princess are Cat Haven rescue moggies their exact dates of birth are a bit of a guess a few months each way, but about now I'm upping their ages from "y and a half" to "pushing y+1". Thus my two eldest are now the ripe old ages of Pushing 21 and Pushing 17 respectively. There's something to be said for hybrid vigour.

Sometimes it feels like all I do is look after (and indeed blog about) the cats. There are worse things to spend my time on, but sometimes it gets complicated. Herein I record Buffy's spey and Boris Giles' sundry bacteria, with end notes on Cally's arthritis and Princess' thyroid.

We’ve had the current complement of cats for nearly two weeks now, so I thought I’d attempt a state of the cat nation post. Unfortunately we haven’t managed to get photos of everything I’d like to talk about, but we’ll keep trying. This post is about the new cat relationships in the house. Health and sanitation updates are somewhat less fun and will come later.

Just back from the vet where I greeted Dr Laura with a deeply ironic “Hello Stranger!”. She replied that it did seem like a long time since I’d been there last, which was all of three weeks ago. I had been coming weekly for a month before that, so I suppose three weeks can seem like a long time.