LIttle Kitty is now 18 years old and slowing down. She sleeps all the time -- or so it seems. She loves the back of the sofa and the top of the chair in the living room. I love this little cat. I've loved all my cats, but some tug at different places in my heart. This little one has always been very small and very smart. The word "fiesty" comes to mind frequently. But I know she's an old lady cat. I don't even try to guess at cat years anymore.
And I don't want to lose her. I know that she is not going to live forever; maybe another year or two, but she's getting slower in her movements and her fur is getting that "old cat" feel to it. I cried at an Aricept commercial today; I would do almost anything to have my grandmother or mother puttering around in the kitchen.
So I'm dreading the loss. It's like pressing on a bruise to see if it still hurts.
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