Just before Christmas, the family's oldest cat, Sasha, was taken to the vet. Sasha, in all the 15 years that we've had her, has never had to go to the vet for anything other than her annual injections. That's not to say she doesn't have a couple of days where she might seem a little off colour, but by the end of the week she's back to her usual self. This time, though, she was drinking a lot of water, and getting ill after eating, and not getting better. The vet did some blood tests, told my parents it's her liver, put her on tablets and a special diet for six weeks. She's about 16 years old, so when I came home for Christmas I thought I'd take a few decent pictures of her, just in case.
She's part Siamese. Which means she looks constantly starved, hunts incredibly efficiently (unfortunately), is very intelligent for a cat and very vocal. It's my little brother who feeds her, but she'll wake my mother up if he's forgotten, because she knows my mother is the best person to get the attention of. She's affectionate, in an incredibly persistent, at times rather annoying, way. The last time I house sat for my parents, she sat on my chest and smacked me awake at 3 o'clock in the morning. Just because she wanted me to stroke her. The last time I was home, she sat right by my head until I woke up. If you've never been woken up by a black cat staring at you in the pitch black of the night, you're missing out on a treat. When she was younger, I'd neaten the mat on the living room floor, only to have her run out from under the sofa, mess up the side, run back again, and repeat every single time I tried to straighten it again.
We have had a bit of a love hate relationship over the years.
When I saw her over Christmas I was rather shocked. She looked so thin and frail. She'd lost a bit of weight, which may not have been noticeable on another cat, but because she's so small generally it looked terrible. She seemed a lot slower than usual. I was also shocked at my reaction. It turns out that I care about her a lot more than I thought I did. I can't imagine coming home and not having her grumpy, noisy meow to greet me.
I usually try and post a photography post on a Friday. For no real particular reason, it's just worked out that way. This Friday I held off until I'd heard from my parents about the cat. She'd gone to the vets again for extensive testing to see if everything is back to normal. It turns out her liver is functioning normally again, but her heart is in the wrong place. Since she's lived for 16 years with her heart as it is, she's back to normal again.
I'm inclined to believe her slowing down and frail appearance may now have been an act to manipulate us into feeling sorry for her. I wouldn't put it past her to think of doing such a thing.
I'm glad I took the pictures of her, though. At some point she won't be around anymore, and it would be nice to have something to remember her by. She's not a very easy to photograph cat, since she's so dark the camera doesn't always pick her up. Unlike our tabby, three legged, soft furred cat that doesn't like people. Truly, she's as soft as anything and would be lovely to have on your lap. She prefers the dog. We think she possibly thinks she's a dog since she greets us at the door when we arrive, and says hello to us in the mornings. That's all the love and affection we get from her, though. That golden pile behind Sasha in two of the photo's is the dog. I haven't included her in this photo post because I've taken more than enough pictures of her.
I have discovered I prefer taking pictures of animals to taking pictures of people and landscapes. I find them fascinating, and they don't have the instinctive aversion to the camera a lot of people do. They're also a lot cuter!