The Mrs Fletcher Of Cats

About three years ago, I agreed to catsit a couple of geriatric cats for a friend while he looked for a new apartment. I did not want additional cats, as Selina and Motherfucker are already Too Many Cats.

After about six months (of the two weeks I was supposed to be watching the cats), I noticed one of the cats (Zion) was walking stiffly. I called the previous owner. We decided to take the cat to the vet, and while we waited, the cat tried to jump on a bench and had a bad fall. When we got the cat carrier, he just gave up, and died before the cab arrived.

Since Zion died, the other cat, Zeke, has been super cuddly. He sleeps on my arm most nights. He follows me around a good portion of the time. He is what I assume optimistic people are hoping for when they get a cat. Whereas Motherfucker is a loyal cat who likes people but would rather sleep on your leg than be cuddled. And, Selina is a loud, furry, novelty siren that wants to be petted, but almost certainly not the way you are currently petting her.

Today, Zeke was hanging out in the hallway, and I called him over, and on his way, he went down hard. Both of the other cats, ran into the hallway and started nuzzling him, and I, of course,completely melted down, figuring, well, my cat is about to die.

I picked him up, brought him over to the bed. Spent an hour cuddling with him as he purred, and then, because I needed to get work done, I picked him up and put a pillow down near the food dishes so he could be comfortable.

Well, it turns out, he's actually fine. That this might have been akin to a human stumbling because their foot fell asleep.

I'm going to hold off on taking him to the vet unless he falls again because he has also melted on to the floor when I've brought out the carrier. Selina and Motherfucker don't like it but they don't shut down. And I'd rather have an old, happy cat whose health I'm not completely sure about, then an old cat who dies of stress because humans need to diagnose and try to treat everything.

Zeke is somewhere between 18 and 4,000 years old. He's probably going to lose his balance every once in a while.

May your next meltdown be so premature that it seems funny and unnecessary once you step away from it. May that project you're so freaked out about finishing on time have a deadline a month after the one you wrote down. May it turn out that your missing wallet wasn't stolen but is in a pair of pants you forgot you wore yesterday, and may it have twenty more dollars than you remembered. May it turn out that the person you opened up to who never texted you back had lost their phone, and they feel so guilty about not replying in a timely fashion that they buy you your favorite dinner. May it all be okayer than you imagined when you woke up this morning.