I need to remind Mom and Dad to order more supplements for GK.
He’ll be out soon,
and he’s been walking less stiffly since he started taking them.
I hope he’s eating—I always ask when I call home.
I was shocked when I saw him a couple visits ago.
His coat was soft as ever
but he was boney.
I had never seen him thinner than moderately rotund.
He’s approaching 19;
the oldest cat on record was 38. He’ll make it to at least 25,
I’m sure.
I hate having to leave him-I’ve had him since I was 2.
I’m scared he’ll lose his appetite when I’m gone,
but Mom keeps telling me how excited he is to sample whatever she and Dad are eating.
He loves whipped cream
but they make sure he doesn’t get too much.
Contrary to popular belief, dairy is bad for cats.
Having younger cats around keeps him active.
Though he’s slower now,
he’s still one hell of a fighter.
I’ve seen him send Nick running on more than a few occasions.
I need to remind Dad to keep exercising.
He comes home from work drained and crashes on the couch.
Part of it’s the hours.
Part of it’s the weight.
He’s been going on walks with Mom,
but the weather’s been bipolar.
He goes walking all the time in the spring and summer.
He loves to fish.
He used to go on hundred-mile mountain bike trips with my uncle on weekends.
Even with his bad knee
and the decades of demanding desk jobs making him sedentary,
he’s still strong.
Though his muscles are out of practice,
they can still push plenty of weight.
I keep pestering him to go to the gym with me when I visit.
I hate seeing him so tired.
I hate seeing him so slow.
I hate seeing him so old.
I want him to bike and run and play like he did when he was younger.
I know he can do it again.
I’ll call tonight.