It isn’t just people of the mountains who grew up knowing that one must accept change. At our best, we figure things out and carry on.
That thought came to mind as I watch our elderly cat, Annie, struggle with basic issues like finding and using the litter pan. We have two for her, side by side in a closet area of the bathroom. About three years ago I saw she was having trouble climbing into the litter pan. Studying on it, I decided that the sides of the standard pan were too high for her to climb over.
To help, I went out and got two large under-the-bed storage bins. Grabbing a rotary power tool, I sliced the sides down until the pans were less than two inches tall. It made it much easier for Annie to get in and out, and the result was that she managed to hit where she aimed, so to speak.
Looking back, I feel honored to have lived with numerous astoundingly loving pets. However, all of us who share our homes with pets for a long time know that our love for them includes how we help them as they age.
I assume Annie is now hurting more, for she began using the kitchen floor as her bathroom. I was initially perturbed. “Why can’t you use your litter pans?” I asked her, as if she would understand. “You have two of them!”
I would clean up the mess. More would be there the next morning.
So again, I studied on it. Perhaps the effort of walking to the back of the house is becoming too much for her. Perhaps the need to relieve herself comes quickly, and she doesn’t have time to make the trek. Perhaps she is forgetting where her bathroom is located.
After about five days of finding kitty surprises on the kitchen floor, I made a decision. If she cannot make it to her litter pans, then bring one of them to her. I left one in the traditional spot, but I rearranged the dining nook in order to relocate the second pan near where she has been doing her thing.
Voila! The next morning there was evidence that she had used that pan, and, just as importantly, there was no mess to clean up.
(I’m sorry if a column about a cat relieving herself where she shouldn’t might not be the most appealing essay. However, I think many will identify with the topic. Even if you have no pets, you still may grasp the allegorical tale.)
Our two dogs, brothers born of a stray we fostered, are also showing their age. At times it is hard to accept that these two are coming up on their 11th year.
I noticed issues for both of them getting onto and off of our bed, or their couch. Yes, our dogs had their own couch, and at least one sleeps with us on the bed every night. They actually tag-team the bed; one establishing his position there until sometime in the middle of the night, when he climbs down for a change of scenery. Within minutes, the other, sensing opportunity, will slip in to claim the abandoned spot. They have an unspoken bed-use agreement, it seems.
The act of getting up or down from their perches was causing them pain. We considered the options. While at a yard sale, I spied sturdy plastic dog stairs. The price was right — under $5—so I grabbed it and set it up beside the bed. As for the couch, it was old and not really comfortable for humans. (That’s why it became the dog couch in the first place, truth be told.) So out went the couch, and in came two comfortable and floor-hugging dog beds.
They both took to the dog beds immediately, but it took a while for them to understand the purpose of the stairs. They now both use them regularly.
I guess what my pets have taught me is I can either learn to roll with the punches life brings, or I can fester in frustration. Unquestionably, I prefer the former.
—Jonathan Austin