Born to Run

Reynaldo had a trip to the vet. He enjoyed it thoroughly. So much, in fact, that he's taken to sleeping in his carrier near the door. My girl cat, Connie, avoids the carrier like the plague (or should I say corona virus?) because it means outdoors, strange smells, scary sounds, unfamiliar hands and perhaps even a shot. But not Rey. He's built for adventure. As soon as this hot spell ends, I'll take him to park.

The vet reports he's in generally good health for an old man, but he is an old man. A 16-year-old cat is the equivalent of an 80-year-old human. So it's not surprising that his vision is failing -- which explains why sometimes when he leaps onto tables or countertops, he misses. He sleeps more soundly than he used to. He's lost a little weight.

The vet recommends I feed Rey whenever he begs. And Rey begs a lot. He wants to see us again in six months.

It's so hard for me to get my mind around the fact that my companion, sparring partner and love bug is old.