The Particular Dignity of a Very Old Cat

There are noticeable changes in Juniper’s behavior. She no longer jumps up on the counters like she used to. She is more calculative and takes her time when approaching the counter. Instead, she breaks the jump into smaller steps, first jumping on the chair and then on the counter.

It’s hard to believe she is 16, because of her meticulous grooming and her bird watching from the window just as intently. But other signs do show her age. Drinking from the bowl seems to take a lot more effort and the movement is more controlled.

What strikes me most is the absence of complaints. No whining, no showing signs of discomfort. She simply adjusts her behavior to account for the changes. New pathways become more important. She moves much more than she used to and that includes sleeping.

There is a dignity in old cats that does not carry over to old dogs. A good example is Copper. When his hips started bothering him, he would give me a soft, confused look, as if he was unable to comprehend why his body was misbehaving.

This is starkly different for Juniper. She’s not like the rest. She privately and quietly manages her aging like she has done everything else in her life, without drawing attention, nap’s to a new route, and care.

Yesterday I observed how she managed the stairs. \Took them one at a time, pausing to get her balance at each step. She took at least three times longer than she would have a year ago. When she reached the top, she didn’t even glance back at me for praise. Rather, she continued walking to the bed, ignoring the unusual thing she just did.

She does all this in a way that refuses to let others make her challenges the focus. It’s not some grand gesture. It’s almost a little honorable the way she carries herself. Like the cat that once ruled the house from the top of the highest bookshelf, she still possesses that self possession.

I have started putting a footstool by her favorite perch. I’ve moved the furniture so there are better walkable openings to all her favorite spots. She uses these changes as if they have always been a part of the house.

My husband asked me if we should take her to the vet. I told him I didn’t think we should take her to the vet, at least not yet. She’s still herself. Just older and slower.

There is often a deep feeling of wanting to take action when faced with the reality of our pets growing older. The desire to step in, to assist, to make things easier is a reaction some of us have. And in some cases, it may be justified. However, with Juniper, I’m understanding that in certain moments, the kind thing to do is simply to allow her to do things her way. To take the stairs when she feels like it. To explore her own paths. Instead of handling her with kid gloves, we treat her like the capable agent she is. We respect her autonomy to determine what she needs.

Currently, she is on my desk enjoying the warmth of the afternoon sun that shines here at this time of the day. She is relaxed and her breathing has a steady rhythm. She has claimed this space and this patch of light as hers. It’s the same view that she has always had from this spot.

I try not to dwell on the limited time I have with her, I make the most of my time her. I observe and appreciate the grace she has as she lives her old age. I know that I’ve had to learn about aging in a way that most people would probably avoid.