Baby

     Baby is not an affectionate cat. I have had her since 1995, and she was perhaps two or three years old when she came to live with me. I have at least three scars from her bites over the years, and countless healed scratches from her back feet (front were declawed when I got her). One night shortly after we left Arizona I reached out during the night to pet her and she was morbidly cold. I stuffed her under the covers, expecting her to protest, or at least try to free her head above the covers. Her reaction was unexpected.
     I sleep in the fetal position. Baby readily burrowed into the cove between my padded thighs and droopy boobs and curled her boney bottom against my soft stomach. She has slept that way every night since, completely submerged below the covers, vibrating gently (she doesn’t really purr, just vibrates) and radiating warmth. She leaves her burrow a couple times during the night to eat, drink water or use the litter box, by sliding her body up mine and slipping out between the sheets. My suggestion that all three functions could be accomplished in one trip is met by a disdainful glare. She returns dripping water from her chin, smelling of cat food, or shaking the litter from her paws and pats my cheek to regain admission to her cave. I lift my arm and she slides back between the sheets.  
     This is not an ideal situation. Kitty litter gets caught in the long hair on her paws, so I have to sweep the sheets every night. Baby smells really awful. At age 19 or so, she isn’t diligent about grooming and she smells like a sour washcloth. I try to keep her combed, and bathe her occasionally, but the odor returns quickly. Her breath smells fruity. She’s so thin her skeleton shows through her long hair, so I suspect she may be diabetic.
     I struggle with the decision to have her euthanized. When I realized she had few teeth left, I started feeding her canned food. She eats well several times a day and enjoys soft treats and occasional bites of my dinner, even though she continues to lose weight. She uses the litter box regularly. She curls up and sleeps in the sun most of the day. Her last veterinary appointment in August (when she bit the veterinarian, an assistant, and me), the vet proclaimed her basically healthy, although her kidneys are apparently shriveled. She does not seem to be in pain, so I keep postponing the decision.
     I am thankful for having her company for so many years, but I do not want to extend her life for my benefit if her quality of life is compromised. Sigh . . . .