Dealing With the Elderly

The elderly in this case is my cat, 16-year-old Toby. He's always been the perfect companion. Unlike most cats, when I called him he'd come running to me. If I yelled "get the bug", he'd run in with eyes darting all over in an attempt to find the bug. If I yelled "Toby, do you want a treat?", you better believe he will be in front of me in two seconds flat. He'd even stand on his hind legs when I asked him to beg for his food. Every morning without fail, he was on my pillow tapping my head with a paw, encouraging me to get up and dish out his food. And, the only time I saw him hiss in his 16 years was when I was doing butterfly exercises on the floor and hit him in the nose with a dumbbell when he sneaked up on me to investigate.

Now that he's joined the ranks of geriatric felines, he's lost a lot of that endearing character that made me fall in love with him instantly. He can no longer jump on the bed to tap my head, I seldom make him beg for food, and his hearing is failing to a point that if I see a bug, I have to shove it in his face. He's lost one tooth that we know of, and a lot of weight has fallen off. The worst problem, however, is the intestinal problem. While his appetite is still great, the food goes right through him. And, when it's time to go through him, it goes no matter whether he's in the den or at his litter box. In his younger days, accidents like this were uncommon. Now, we have to use a flashlight to get up during the night to make sure we don't step in something. Which brings me to the whole point of this post.

Allison was over with Jude and Baylee and we kept smelling something. I finally got up and noticed poo-poo tracks all over the floor. Baylee had stepped in Toby's latest deposit on the floor in one of the rooms. Which room, I don't know. It was all over the floor in 6 different rooms. Baylee's dress shoes and socks were coated in it. We stripped her down and Allison put her in the bathtub while I cleaned floors. I went through 4 small buckets of soapy water and a scrub brush in my attempt to clean. Then, I emptied almost a can of Lysol. My frustration and impatience over dealing with an elderly cat were apparent. How does one handle a mess like this when you have accepted and loved a pet like a member of the family?

A solution is hard to find. On one hand, I think it will be a relief when he finally decides he has harrassed me enough and goes to old cat land. Then again, he's been an enjoyable and loyal friend for many years. I look at him and ask myself if I want my kids to put me away when I lose control of my mind and bodily functions. Can we even compare a human to an animal? All I know is that I love him and he's a very messy cat now that he's old. The two facts are at war with one another.

Maybe the frustrations and added work of caring for the aged is God's way of softening the blow when the end comes. I don't know. It's just that many days when I have cleaned up poop and scrubbed the floor around his food bowl, I feel that Jude said it best one day when he came in the door for a visit: "Toby! You're still here!"