The day I start believing in reincarnation I am putting in a request to come back as our cat Josie. The word "our" is a slight fabrication since Josie is really my wife's cat. I am the adopted father. Josie was there before I arrived on the scene and I am reminded of this fact every time I put up opposition to doing some chore for Josie.
Josie is old. She is 17 which in cats’ lives is 4,325. Josie has kidney failure which is very sad. She needs to be injected with fluids every other day . She takes two different types of pills daily and a powdered pill that is added to her food. She has been unwell for some time and her Mommy is the best cat care provider one can find.
I am the only one at home this week. I am "Mr Cat." I have been entrusted in being "Dr. Cat" every morning and evening, deceiving the cat by hiding her medication inside a soft chewy treat. It seems to be working. I also feed Josie at 3 am after she wakes me from my slumbers by meowing at about 120 decibels. In my dreamlike state , I can hear people screaming and calling out for help and jump out of bed looking for the tortured souls and instead I stumble across Josie crying out for food. I feed her with one eye open and collapse back into bed. Josie is fed again at 5.30am when I arise for the second time. The babysitter aka the cat sitter, in the kids’ absence, comes in during the day and feeds Josie twice. She is fed again at 6 pm on my return from work and then finally before I retire for the night.
Josie eats a lot. Her renal failure means that unless she eats often and plenty, her weight loss would be catastrophic (avoid the pun). Looking after Josie is a full time job and I exhausted from doing it. I do however realize that the responsibility of looking after the pet cat is of huge significance. If anything untoward would happen to Josie then the consequences for me would be horrendous. Lifelong guilt and retribution. I am convinced that my wife has had cameras installed all over the apartment spying on me and checking to see how good a job I am doing. I seem to spend a large potion of my time walking around my apartment saying good girl Josie with a big smile on my face waving to where I think the hidden cameras are located. The families in the apartment building opposite must think I am completely nuts, but they clearly have never been left with a sick cat belonging to my wife for an extended period of time.
If the feeding and pill schedule weren't enough, Josie needs an injection on alternate days. My wife trusts me with many duties but not with this task.She honestly thinks I would botch it up and murder the cat. So I have to take her to the vet every other day without fail and wait for an available technician to administer the needle and discharge 100 milliliters of some clear saline type liquid that keeps her alive for forty eight hours.
Fortunately the vet's office is on my block, so apart from having to rearrange my whole work and social life around these visits, they really do not pose too much of an inconvenience.
My only thought is when I am old and decrepit will someone look after me the same way as Josie is cared for? With intervention and constant attention Josie has survived for many years past her sell by date and may she have many more. My Mother commented on her stay with me about how well I was cat sitting. When I awoke this morning I recalled my Mother's statement regarding Josie. “I hope that the cat appreciates everything you are doing for her." Josie must of heard my Mother because in the middle of the night last night Josie decided to urinate all over my ski jacket that I had naively left on the floor. On telling my wife this piece of news she remarked,"Josie must be so mad at you. Were you nasty to her?"
When my wife eventually comes come I will be wearing whiskers, have four legs, a tail and will be purring up a storm curled up in my basket. She can look after me for a while!
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