Cat Tuesday: Blair
I suppose the best way to begin Cat Tuesday is with introductions. I have four cats, though until last November I had five. Mia left us mid-November after almost a year battling cancer, and I'm still mourning her. We'll cover her another time. Today, though, is for Blair.
Blair, sadly, also has cancer. We thought for a while he had multiple myeloma, and he still might, but the vet is leaning on lymphoma now ashe's defied the odds and lived so long. He was diagnosed last August, so we've been cat hospice for some time now. It's absolutely getting
old, and no, I don't enjoy at all knowing that everything I'm doing is preparing for cat death. Again.
But Blair is absolutely defying the odds and even put on a little weight the last few months. He's pretty much constantly on an antibiotic as he has virtually no immune system, but he's still getting around and in many ways is more active and lovey than he's been in years.
We got Blair when he was just a kitten, rescuing him from a neighbor's flowerbed across the street in Washington, Iowa, when we lived there. He was a pistol from word go. He got into the fridge once (only once) and liked to steal things from cupboards. Most notable was a box of Stove Top stuffing he proudly trotted through the TV room, the box clutched in his mouth. He also once stole a bag of English muffins I'd put away just moments before and stowed them in the back of an upstairs closet, where I found them six months later.
Blair also loved playing fetch with little red balls, especially up and down the stairs. He would fetch over and over again until he was panting. Sadly, he stopped once Bingley (another cat) showed up, because Bingley fetched too. He'll still chase balls, though, if he's the only one around.
Though he's known to houseguests as a growly bastard, Blair has long been a snuggly cat. He likes to lie beside you like a person in bed, head on the pillow, body spooned against your own beneath the covers. Especially since the cancer, he's been my big buddy all day, always sitting in a cat stand we call "the fur hat" since cats look like one when they curl up atop it. He's always been a nipper too, hence his nickname "Black Bitey," but he's a good boy. He's a cranky but sensitive soul, and when he's gone, we will be very sad. We have no idea how much longer he'll be with us: right now he's pretty healthy, but all it will take is a bug he can't kick and an antibiotic can't stop.
In his mind, though, the perks right now are pretty awesome. He gets special food, more than everyone else, and even has a private dining car in the kitchen. Right now, in fact, I'm fending off all comers to his special kibble. I know he's loving not just his special food but the fact that everyone else has to watch him eat it without getting a taste. (In fact, he just dragged it further under the couch with a predatory growl.)
That's Blair. Long may he reign.
Blair, sadly, also has cancer. We thought for a while he had multiple myeloma, and he still might, but the vet is leaning on lymphoma now ashe's defied the odds and lived so long. He was diagnosed last August, so we've been cat hospice for some time now. It's absolutely getting
old, and no, I don't enjoy at all knowing that everything I'm doing is preparing for cat death. Again.
But Blair is absolutely defying the odds and even put on a little weight the last few months. He's pretty much constantly on an antibiotic as he has virtually no immune system, but he's still getting around and in many ways is more active and lovey than he's been in years.
We got Blair when he was just a kitten, rescuing him from a neighbor's flowerbed across the street in Washington, Iowa, when we lived there. He was a pistol from word go. He got into the fridge once (only once) and liked to steal things from cupboards. Most notable was a box of Stove Top stuffing he proudly trotted through the TV room, the box clutched in his mouth. He also once stole a bag of English muffins I'd put away just moments before and stowed them in the back of an upstairs closet, where I found them six months later.
Blair also loved playing fetch with little red balls, especially up and down the stairs. He would fetch over and over again until he was panting. Sadly, he stopped once Bingley (another cat) showed up, because Bingley fetched too. He'll still chase balls, though, if he's the only one around.
Though he's known to houseguests as a growly bastard, Blair has long been a snuggly cat. He likes to lie beside you like a person in bed, head on the pillow, body spooned against your own beneath the covers. Especially since the cancer, he's been my big buddy all day, always sitting in a cat stand we call "the fur hat" since cats look like one when they curl up atop it. He's always been a nipper too, hence his nickname "Black Bitey," but he's a good boy. He's a cranky but sensitive soul, and when he's gone, we will be very sad. We have no idea how much longer he'll be with us: right now he's pretty healthy, but all it will take is a bug he can't kick and an antibiotic can't stop.
In his mind, though, the perks right now are pretty awesome. He gets special food, more than everyone else, and even has a private dining car in the kitchen. Right now, in fact, I'm fending off all comers to his special kibble. I know he's loving not just his special food but the fact that everyone else has to watch him eat it without getting a taste. (In fact, he just dragged it further under the couch with a predatory growl.)
That's Blair. Long may he reign.