Senior Cat

Our cat (André) is over twelve years old. He is a spry young feline and he wears his age well. He has the body of a six year old (cat) and takes great pride in his appearance. He isn't vain. He just does the best he can with what he's got.

I counted the white hairs on his underbelly when he first joined our family. It was a single digit number and other than those stray white hairs he was pure black. His white hair count has gone up significantly over the course of these twelve years. He dons a bit of a distinguished 'salt and pepper' look but at a glance, he is still midnight black.

None of our cats that preceded André lived to their senior years. We have lost cats in a myriad of ways. From living on a farm and the wandering nature of male cats; to moving away from beloved cats and being unable to bring them along; to runaways; to traffic; to disease; to a variety of other reasons ... I have never adopted a cat that has lived this long.

Twelve years is a long time. André has worked his way into our hearts and is here to stay.

André was a teen when my teen age son adopted him. They bonded throughout their adolescent years. Those first years, my Second Son was André's main person.

André has always had a bit of an untamed spirit. He didn't like to be confined to our house and yard. He bolted at every chance he got. But once given that freedom, he always chose to come home. André was two years old (24 in human years) at the same time My Oldest was twenty four. Each of them needed some space from family at times. Each would choose to come home. Eventually. On their own terms.

André and I slowed down a little bit at the same stages in our lives. He was six (40 in human years) when I was 36. I was pregnant at the time when I noticed I couldn't speed walk with the same effectiveness as I used to. André was still in his prime, holding onto his teenage attitude and barely containing his wanderlust when he had 'exceeded' my age. He taught me that age is just a number.

Now André is twelve+ years old. Sixty four in human years. He has found a special place in his heart for each one of his people. But I think he has a favorite. He follows My Youngest around the house like a loyal pup. They share a body language that each has learned intuitively. They play games. They snuggle. My Youngest knows exactly how André wants to be petted and André instinctively grooms My Youngest in return. It is as if André knows that teens don't always translate what they feel into words and that the act of loving someone and physical contact transcends all. What they share is beyond special.

I gaze at our much adored Senior Cat and wonder how in the world we will ever live without him. He is showing no signs of wear and tear. He is active, healthy and vital in every way. He reminds me of my mom when she was at his age (of 64 years). We thought she was the cat's meow and that she would be forever young.

Years have a way of gently teaching you what you need to know. Small health set backs have gradually slowed Mom down. It hasn't happened overnight but it is happening. But she is still a force to be reckoned with. She is spunky and her mind never stops. She is fiercely independent and we admire that quality in her.

André has five years to go before he 'reaches' the human age of 84. The age Mom is at right now. I think he carries her young-at-heart spirit and though he will slow down ... he will retain the essence of himself that we have all grown to love.

We will appreciate every moment we have. One never knows how long life-as-we-know-it will last.