I think there comes a time in every parents' life when they realize their child can no longer be labeled as such. They must refer to her as an adult, and with that title, comes a host of other necessitated actions such as not calling her five or six times a day to see if she has eaten, allowing her to sleep until she decides to wake up in the morning, and not wincing when she shows up dressed as a circus clown. For me, this day has come.
My pet is old.
I remember when we first met, 9 years ago, and she was so carefree, so idealistic. She would let me lounge on top of her, headbutt her, and even nip a time or two. She would giggle, and I would smile, knowing that my presence made her happy. It was so adorable the way she would try to close the bathroom door when she had to do her business, as if that could keep my fatherly eyes from her.
Nonetheless, she is old.
Sometimes, on weekends, she does nothing but watch television and rented DVDs. She pretends to be interested in the world, but she's actually just waiting for something to happen. I love how she tries to make it seem like Isis and I are the lazy ones, but seeing her just continue to decline is beyond me. First, it's the physical, then it's the mental.
My pet is so old.
Now, she comes home from work and won't move from the couch unless she has to eat or do 'other business'. She complains about her back aching, her knee hurting, and her head throbbing. If I so much as meow to her to let her know I care, she hurls out an immediate, "Zeus! Cut it out!" I think it might be time to let her out into the backyard so she can crawl away and die.
Wow, did I mention she's old?
Maybe those 40s will be better.