October Greetings to You, and to All Fenek’s Friends!

Fenek is hanging in there. Like a lot of seniors, he needs medication: for his ears, for his heart, for diabetes. He’s lost a little more weight in the past month. He will soon be having an echocardiogram, blood tests, and a blood pressure check.  But you won’t hear him complain.

It is early afternoon when I arrive at Tabby’s Place. In the Lounge, I log in and sit on one of the chairs along a wall. Looking around the room, I see the two lady cats who call it home are both napping. Samantha is curled up on one cushioned chair, and Rashida is in a similar position atop a piece of carpet-lined cat furniture.

Among the males, Baby is in a bed on the floor, and Fenek is in a cardboard box lined with a fleecy, red-white-and-blue blanket. Neither of them shows any inclination toward rousing themselves, either.

Meanwhile, I don’t know what Shifty had been doing, but whatever it was, he stopped doing it. I look down and see him at my feet, looking up at me. The big gray-and-white fellow climbs on the chair next to me and settles down, his paws draped across my lap.

It is quiet. There is only the sound of humming from the refrigerator, and trickling water in a cat fountain.

Soon, people also start to trickle in. Staff members enter, collect their lunches, microwave them when necessary, and chat while they wait. Minutes later, they take their food and make their way to a picnic table in a shady area near the edge of Tabby’s Place property.

Jonathan Rosenberg, founder and Executive Director, comes in next. We exchange greetings as he goes over to Rashida and expertly squeezes the contents of a small vial of medicine into her. Before he can finish, a staff member opens the door and tells him about an urgent matter with a visitor in the lobby. His lunch will have to wait a little while longer.

Shifty and I are still comfortably sharing the chair when another staff member enters with a tray of food. She serves first Samantha and then Fenek, and Shifty hops down and approaches her. Yes, she has something for him, too, and she bends over to place a portion of fish mush on the floor in front of him.

When Fenek finishes eating, he washes and takes a little drink from the fountain. Then he looks my way and cruises across the room toward me. I give him a hand in getting up on my lap, partly to save him the trouble of jumping, but mostly because I can’t wait.

Then the room is quiet again, except for the hum of the fridge, the gurgle of the fountain, and the purring of the Distinguished Gentleman cat on my lap.

Fenek’s spirit continues to be that of a young tom. Thank you for all you do to help him live his best life now.

Wishing you all good things,
Your Correspondent,
John