The End of the Line

I think that our cat Mojo has nearly reached the end of the line. I don’t know if we’re measuring in days or weeks, but probably not months. He’s having trouble in the litter box. He does unusual things, like climbing into the toilet. He smells bad. His cataracts have gotten worse, and we’re not sure how well he sees. He’s lost weight. But most telling of all, he isn’t eating much, even after getting medication to stimulate his appetite.

The vet did some tests, which came back negative. She says that x-rays are the next step, but I’m not sure they’re necessary. The condition that he’s suffering from is old age. There’s nothing that will cure him of that.

For now, he is still able to get himself up and down the stairs (though his things have all been moved downstairs for his convenience). He still seems to enjoy spending time with us. So he’s not quite done with life yet. But when he unexpectedly jumped into my lap earlier today, I held his stinky, bony body close and tried to memorize the feeling of his purr rumbling against me and the softness of his fur.