So a few weeks ago we adopted two senior kitties with medical problems to help us mourn the loss of my familiar, Hazel. One of these kitties, Bootsie O’Sullivan, Snuggle Enforcer, is gregarious, vocal, and social. She demands all the pets, all the time, from all the people.
The other kitty is Dame Marble of Purrcatua, First of Her Name, Seeker of Softness, Master of Westerly facing windows. She is sicker than Bootsie. She is shy and retiring, doesn’t want to snuggle, and recently got very ill, with a high fever, lack of appetite, and lethargy.
After taking her in we are now giving her five pills morning and night and eye drops. She takes her pills like a long time spoonie, in a resigned way that almost breaks my heart. She doesn’t fight the eye drops either. It is clear this is a cat who has seen her fair share of vets. I was watching her try to find a comfortable place to lie down today when it hit me.
She is a Spoonie!
This cat who so touched our hearts with her sad story was unwanted because she is sick and broken and not like other kitties. The sick and broken within me recognized the sick and broken within her and my heart screamed “you are still worth loving!”
So I am spending my self-isolation in the company of an animal who was too much an invalid to be adopted, too broken to be given a home, by anyone other than us — a family of sick and broken people who understands what it’s like not to fit with society’s idea of valid.
Managing life with chronic illness requires savvy spoons