Patient

My little lady is ailing. For too many years she has pushed her lithe, athletic body to the extreme, sprinting in the open country, scrambling high into tall trees, and running back down, terrorising bigger cats with her speed of attack. Her sudden leaps from a sitting position to high in the air to take a swipe at a passing bird were breathtaking. For the last year or so she has been more sedate, but now she has abdicated her role as head of the household. No more does she demand I feed her when she feels like it, or tell me to stroke her now, or open the door and leave it open- or else. Because she has not grown her thick winter coat she stays indoors most of the time, instead of patrolling her territory and exploring, though she still sometimes follows me about. It makes me so sad to see her like this and I have decided to give her medicine that will ease her pain but shorten her life. The next decision will be much harder. I feel blessed to have had her for 16 of her 17 years.