I have a million things to do today. Contractors are arriving on Tuesday to renovate upstairs, and before that happens, everything needs to be moved elsewhere. I’m basically in the middle of a mini-move.
So what am I doing? Writing a blog post with my sweet, serious little Jasmine at my side. She is purring loudly and pressing her wet nose against my right hand from time to time, reminding me it’s time to scratch her ears again.
I don’t know how much time we have left together. She’s fifteen, her kidneys are failing, but she is doing well on her special diet and regular subcutaneous fluids. She still leaps onto the kitchen counter from the table with remarkable ease, and gives as good as she gets when our younger cat, Leela, chases her for sport. It’s only her weight loss, now stabilized, that gives her condition away.
Just now I was upstairs, a chaotic whirlwind tackling this project, and I heard plaintive howling from below. Assuming she was hungry, I quickly went downstairs to feed her, but it turns out all she wanted was a little bit of time with me. Now that she feels she’s had enough chin scratches, head butts, whispered endearments and little kisses on the top of her head, she’s curled up and contented.