Fat Cat, RIP

   The last of our cats has passed away.  Fat Cat died of old-age and increasing disability.  She was getting gray and weaker only in the last half-year.  She had wandered into our courtyard many years ago with no history, so we don’t know how old she really was.  At the time, we had other cats in the house, and she fought with them, so she lived outside under the eaves for a few years until they all died.  From homeless to housecat, she found numerous hideaway nooks in the house to sleep in private.  She was not an affectionate cat, but she did like Tuk, following her around. 

   Earlier, about one year ago or so, my cat, Pinky, died at 17 years old.  I never wrote about this, because I really didn’t know what to say.  She was special, and was very shy and stayed mostly in my room.  During the night, I would wake up to find her sleeping with her head resting on my ankle, so I had to be careful when moving or rolling over.  She liked to have her tummy rubbed and relished having her face brushed with a stiff brush.  I miss her. 

   In other news, I’m still chained to a urinary catheter and will need some major surgery so I can pee again.  The prostate has shrunk, but scar tissue is blocking my urethra.  I’m not sure how this surgery will go. 

   I have become determined to get physically fit before any serious operation, because I know I’ll be laid up for a while after.  So, I’ve begun my old heavy hands stair-climbing routine again.  Back to only 1 kg in each hand, I walk 2.5 km and climb 6 high stairways – stairs up to the river bridge and pedestrian flyovers.  I’m calling this routine my “Roadwork”, because it reminds me of boxers’ aerobic training.  Next week, I aim to wield 2 kg dumbbells.  That’s the plan, anyway. 

-Zenwind. 

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