I’ll plant flowers and vegetables in anything—with Cookie’s supervision, of course! Occasionally I go around to yard sales and buy some cheap ceramic items and use them for flower pots, in this case a canister set that had mostly broken lids so each pot was maybe a dime.
This one in particular held a pepper plant, not a cookie tree, but even though Cookie has been interacting with this pot nearly every day since last spring, checking it every morning, sitting by it in shade and sun, drinking from it and lately eating her snow cone from it, I never noticed it said “Cookies” until today. Guess that might have been why she’s been so fond of it.
Once she was done inspecting the inside for cookies or the last of her snow cone, she decided to do the typical cat thing with the stem—run her nose along it, then gnaw on it for a bit.
We are winning little battles, but we are slowly losing the war. Her hyperthyroid condition along with the renal issues have been causing her heart to enlarge and it’s beginning to impede her circulation and breathing; she is frequently short of breath and her hind legs are typically weak. I carry her around though she doesn’t like it, but I can’t see her straining on steps and possibly falling.
Kelly has calmed down and attempts some comfort for Cookie, cuddling with her and giving her a pretty complete bath now and then.
Mimi sits with her by the kitchen furnace vent which has always been one of Cookie’s favorite spots under a chair, Mimi forming a barrier so the heat will stay underneath and keep Cookie warm, and gives her very practical momcat baths.
The Fantastic Four keep an eye on her, and I’ll see one or another moving toward the top of the steps if she’s headed in that direction, Giuseppe keeps an eye on her on elevated surfaces, Mewsette cuddles with her, and Jelly Bean sits next to her and purrs fervently.
And Mr. Sunshine had a special gift for her, and me. One evening as I was behind the closed bathroom door checking Cookie’s temperature and heart rate, much to her objection, I could hear shuffling outside the door and knew the Four were out there, probably waiting to see if any food would come their way. Then Mr. Sunshine’s favorite wooden clothespin emerged little by little under the door right next to us, followed by a black paw giving it one final shove. I thought that was darned nice of Mr. Sunshine to give us his best clothespin, knowing it would make us as happy as it made him.
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