It has been over 20 years since we’ve had a senior cat in the household, and my how things have changed. Dear, Sweet Tayo was diagnosed with kidney disease when it was well advanced. In those days, despite following recommendations for frequent tests to track the disease, there were not the sophisticated metrics and tests we now have to give us more notice. Tayo was losing weight and his coat had that oily “I‘m a sick cat” look. We tried the kidney-diet foods, but they were far worse tasting back then and there was no chance Tayo would eat them. We fed him anything he would eat. Medical remedies were few or onerous. I would not torture him to have him stay with us for a few more weeks or months. As he grew more challenged we started giving him subcutaneous fluids, which he tolerated, and it helped him for a while. There were a few good days, but mostly he slept near me, or on me, never far away, until he knew it was his time. Like a wounded or aged wild animal he chose a secluded place to lay down and breathe his last breaths in peace. I laid down with him and he would purr at my touch, just a little, then sleep again. A kind doctor came and helped us say good bye. It all happened so fast; it seemed even a couple of years to prepare for the inevitable wasn’t enough.
I now live with two senior cats and am god-mother to another who lives a few houses away. Testing has caught the kidney disease early in Alex and Chumley, and hyperthyroidism in the younger Grace as well. The appropriate diet food is better quality and better tolerated by the patients. Both the guys have been stable for over a year on a good kidney-diet food and further interventions have so far not been necessary. However, both the boys have suspicious growths or shadows in their guts portending that something more quickly devastating may lurk to shorten their lives. We decided on the hopeful approach. Between the appetite stimulant, steroid regimen, ear swabbing, probiotics, laxative for Alex and psyllium for Grace, poop and intake monitoring, it has taken a spreadsheet to keep track of it all. There is always something, but we can do no better than to embrace the situation before us and enjoy the time we have together.
Despite turning our house into palliative cat care central it is not all doom and gloom. Alex’ grumpy nature has been enhanced by dementia and while it hurts to see him confused, his odd vocalizations can’t help but make us laugh. His meows are more like quacks and when I talk to him he always responds with some comic sound, (he does a great James Cagney imitation), or my favorite, the silent meow where he opens his mouth just wide enough to make a tiny “o” and no sound comes out. Cracks me up every time.
Alex has also trained Wiley and me in an elaborate bedtime ritual that we find endearing. He starts vocalizing around 9:30 and insists that our bedroom door be opened. He launches himself onto the bed, squawks a few times and waits for Wiley to come to bed. A towel is spread in a (futile) effort to control the cat hair, then long, hard butt pats ensue. Alex can get so worked up by the combination of butt pats and chin rubs that he seems to levitate. The game ends only when he finally overstimulates and nips at Wiley. (Beth would not approve, but it is what he loves.)
Even stranger than this ritual is the new one where he insists on being carried out of the bedroom to his food dish, located in the studio. This is a cat that would cry, stiffen his body like a board and frantically wiggle to get out of my arms with any attempt to pick him up. In 17 years I had probably only tried to hold him a dozen times or so, but now! When I pick him up his body is soft and melting, he purrs on contact and curls up like a furry pill bug, placing his paws on either side of my neck, frighteningly close to my jugular, and happily rides in my arms to his food dish. So weird.
Eleven year old Grace, for her part, doesn’t act anything like a senior cat, but actuarily I am told she is. She still has the kitten energy, the need to know where everyone is all the time, ready to play at the drop of a string or bra strap, mega resource guardian and de-tailer of lizards. She’s had her issues though. We tried to treat the over-grooming as stress related for a few months, but when nothing we did cleared it up we had to admit it could be allergies. 
A nasty tasting medication cleared it up immediately. This was not a sustainable course, however, since she hated the taste so much she began to hate us, too. It was painful to see her watch my movements and run from me when she knew I was loading a syringe. My best little buddy was beginning to loathe me no matter how many treats I provided afterwards. The strained relationship was keeping the itch in check, but when scary stuff started turning up in her chronically loose stools we had had enough. Against our vet’s recommendation we stopped. It was a difficult choice between two bad options, but thankfully the itching and over-grooming hasn’t returned in a big way. What developed from this discontinuation of the medication was a new ritual where Grace gets an extended brushing and combing session to leave her with less hair to ingest, and perhaps help quell the itching. She eagerly embraces the brushing and the treats that come afterwards once she has had her ear swabbed with the hyperthyroid medication. She’s such a good girl.
It has also been fascinating to see the shift in power dynamics between Alex and Grace. Alex has always been a bit of a bully, acting like the king of the pride, letting Olive, Gracie’s predecessor, bring in the bugs and lizards then demanding she hand them over. He was in the habit of throwing his weight around to take over the warmest nap spot, and forcing his way onto my lap when someone else was already there. Grace, and Olive before her, understood that the way to get along with Alex was to let him have his way and kiss up to him. The tables have now turned. 
Grace is the boss and no amount of Alex’s posturing with stares and swats will budge her from her prized spot and she artfully pushes him away with her back feet. He puts up with it which is astounding considering how unwilling he has been to cede even an inch of ground for 17 years. What hasn’t changed though is that they still choose to curl up with each other, sharing their warmth, and exchanging grooming sessions in what I assume is affection. It’s simply that this is now Grace’s preference; she’s not just getting along to keep the peace. I quietly celebrate her girl power.
As I write this I wonder how our days don’t become overwhelming and sad with the extra care and attention the cats need. However, like most of life, once a comfortable and sometimes entertaining routine is set the effort seems minimal and maybe pleasurable, connecting us with our fur babies even more deeply as we monitor their health and observe their evolving and endearing quirks, appreciating what are surely our dwindling days together.
by Candace Key
