Sixteen years ago this week I brought Kiera, my delightful kitty, home. She was a rescue kitty, and they estimated that she was at least a year old, possibly as much as a year and a half when I got her.
This means she’s at least seventeen years old. Possibly more than that. Yet, she still gets the zoomies on a regular basis and races around the house like a crazy thing. We play together all the time. She also insists on a fair amount of lap time. She’s a very communicative kitty for the most part. She will jump onto the couch then look at me and meow, obviously demanding that I need to sit so she can have a lap.
She wasn’t always a lap kitty. I believe she became on in the fall of 2018. Before that October, I could have counted on the fingers of one hand how many times she’d wanted to sit in my lap. Almost all of them were when I lived in Seattle and there were loud fireworks.
She continues to be fussy in terms of eating. Sometimes she’ll gobble up everything on the plate. Other times, she makes her displeasure known by sniffing at her food, then going and throwing up on her towel. (She’s pretty well trained that way, and generally throws up on one of the towels we have on the floor for her. That way, she’s not throwing up on the bed, or on the couch, etc.)
We had a scare last year when she started having severe seizures. The meds she takes every day seem to be helping, though she still occasionally has mild seizures. And she twitches a lot more now.
I know I won’t always have my kitty. I’ll miss my purring companion. In the meantime, I continue to try to make the most with the time I have!
TONS of pictures below.