Feline Just Fine

I have to make a public apology about any previous comments I made a regarding an "empty nest."

It is NOT empty. We have a very important household member still here – in all her fluffy glory. Sorry to slight you, Sylvester. Don't lay there all pouty and disgruntled. We love you.

As it happens, it was her birthday this weekend, too. Late Friday night it dawned on us that it was September 1, her big day. We tried to make it up to her in the last hour, but her feelings were hurt. Then for me to act like it's just hubby and me living here now, well, she couldn't stomach that. (Kind of literally, since she was Princess Pukes-A-Lot today.)

Let's not mention age then, either. She was definitely a "senior" already last year. They have a weird age calculator for cats. It's not an even 7 years calculation like dogs. So at age 13 she is – and I whisper – 68 in human years.

I think I am part cat because at my age of – and I whisper – none of your business, I am well over 200 years old in human years. And I feel it!

Thankfully, a trip to the chiro-crack-tor at lunch today straightened me out! I feel much, much better after she re-aligned my hips again. My right side and back side are still tender but I can breathe and I can move and bend again.

Now if I could just sleep for 22 hours a day, I'd be feline purr-fectly fine.