I know it happens but I am not exactly sure why, but when cats get old, like really old, like 18 to 20, they waste away it seems. Muffin must be down to 5 lbs (2.2 kg) now, if that. I don’t like it. He was the king. The big Kahuna around here. He was the Alpha and kept everyone, even the humans and the dogs in line.
The Muffin Man has become a little wisp of himself, and his front paws seem to have splayed out in a funny way that I never noticed before today. He is always hungry (especially at 4 AM) but never seems to eat much. He attacks everyone’s dinner and only wants people or dog food. “What ever you want, Muffy, we will get it for you.” Some nights he does not even come to my bed anymore. I think he starts to, but get tired on way so stops and just sleeps where he is.
It is hard when your furry friends get so advanced in years. Everyday I check his breathing and kiss him and thank him for the one more day he has given me with him. Muffy’s time is coming – maybe tomorrow – next week – next month – one can not prepare – one can not ready themselves for the hole – the loss – the empty space on the couch. All I can do is try and cuddle his boney self and enjoy the moments of now. The togetherness of the present.
I am not sure if this blog is about Muffy or about my daughter, Peanut, leaving to college at the end of the week: difference is, she has her life ahead, he has his life behind. I am already missing them both in a weird way and they are not even gone yet.