Just got back from Houston where I spent time with my childhood cat, Demon. She is old and practically blind these days. Her fur is thinning, and she is not as agile as she once was. But she is still sassy, growling, does things her own way, Demon.
At 14 years old, I know she is nearing the end of her life, and it’s strange to realize that I raised her from a tiny runt-of-the-litter Free box kitten, and now, in cat years, she is older than me. It’s like in those sci-fi movies where someone gets trapped in a parallel universe where 1 earth day = 100 parallel universe days, and when the person who was trapped in the parallel universe reenters earth time, he is old, and the people he knew are still the same age.
I know she is just a cat, but it doesn’t seem right that we grew up together, and now, she is suddenly, old.
Christine and I ofter refer to ourselves as “sentimental cats in a box” — basically people who are too sentimental for their own good. It comes from this video.