I honestly thought this was going to be a "Farewell Riley" post. He's 16 years old and has arthritis and a little hearing loss. He's also been having seizures lately, which is the most worrisome to watch.
It's been hard watching him grow old. Some days are better than others, but he gets around on his own, has a good appetite, uses his litter box, loves attention, manages to pull himself up onto our bed for his naps, and loudly shares his opinions about what he likes and what he doesn't.
He doesn't go outside much anymore, but on sunny days he loves to nap on the front porch, so we reluctantly let him go out. Occasionally he goes down the two front steps to sit in the front yard to enjoy the sun. I always bring him in at dusk at the latest, because we have coyotes roaming around and Riley just doesn't have the ability to move quickly to get out of their way.
The other day after a seizure, he wanted to go out. I really didn't want him to, but his way of yowling loudly and persistently to get what he wants won out. He seemed disoriented and had a very difficult time walking out. For the first time, Dan and I said maybe it's time for that last visit to the vet to help him cross the Rainbow Bridge.
He settled down in his corner of the front porch for a nap. I checked on him several times but he didn't move. It seemed as if he was barely still breathing. At dusk, when it was time to come in, I couldn't find him.
We searched all over the yard, calling and calling. But no Riley. Eventually we gave up in the dark.
The next morning, still no Riley. The searching and calling were repeated several times throughout the day. But no Riley. Night came and I went out with a flashlight, calling and hunting. No Riley.
That next morning he was still nowhere to be soon, and we finally accepted that he was gone. He'd been missing for two nights. Some say animals know when they are going to die and "go off" to do it in private. We could only think that was the case with Riley. Later that morning Dan went out to hunt for his body. We wanted to give him a proper burial.
A few minutes later I heard Dan calling me from the front yard. I opened the front door and he pointed at the cat tree next to the door. There, sitting in the kitty bed on the top of the tree, was Riley! He was alert and purring. I picked him up and he meowed for his breakfast. After three helpings of his favorite cat food for breakfast, he climbed onto our bed, took a bath, and curled up for a nap.
He's been his usual happy self ever since. Both Dan and I think it's a miracle.
We also accept he probably won't be with us much longer. As long as he's happy to be alive, we're happy too. He's been a good mouse hunter and faithful companion, so he gets a bit of pampering in his retirement time of life. He deserves that.
