The last few days, something’s been off in the Kingdom of Whiskey Kitty.
Not dramatically. Not alarms and sirens. Just… quiet. Too quiet.
She’s been sleepy. Low energy. Not her usual fast-and-curious self. This is the same cat who treats the house like an Olympic training facility, launching from couch to chair to invisible ninja platforms only she can see. Now she’s resting more, moving slower, like the volume knob on her spirit got turned down a few clicks.
Mom thinks it’s the heat. That makes sense. We’ve all felt like wilted houseplants lately. But even with the air conditioning running, Whiskey still seems a step behind herself. Then came the next possibility: worms.
And just like that, my mind went from “maybe she’s tired” to “what if something’s wrong?”
Because Whiskey Kitty isn’t just a pet to me. She’s my baby girl.
I keep her inside. Not because I want to limit her world, but because I’ve seen what’s out there. Possums that look like they’ve been through three wars. Squirrels with attitude problems. Coyotes that don’t negotiate. The outside world isn’t a Disney movie. It’s more like a survival documentary with bad lighting.
So I protect her the best I can.
But this… this is different. This is something I can’t just block with a door.
And that’s where the worry starts to grow legs and pace around.
I start thinking about things I don’t want to think about. About losing her. About not being able to fix it. Even though, if I’m being honest, the evidence doesn’t say anything that extreme. Cats get tired. Cats get little issues. Cats bounce back all the time.
But love doesn’t deal in evidence. Love deals in what ifs.
And I’ve known loss before.
I’ve only had one child, and he was taken at birth and adopted. That kind of experience doesn’t just fade into the background. It becomes part of how you love going forward. Maybe deeper. Maybe more protective. Maybe a little more afraid of losing something good when you finally have it.
And Whiskey… she filled a space in me I didn’t even know was still open.
She brought something simple and powerful into my life: companionship without complication. A living, breathing little soul that looks at me like I matter in her world. That’s no small thing.
So when she’s not herself, I feel it.
Still, even now, I catch glimpses of who she is. When she gets a spark of energy, she doesn’t just move, she performs. She stretches, pivots, and leaps like some kind of feline martial artist. One second she’s crouched in perfect form, the next she’s flowing through movements that look like yoga designed by nature itself.
It makes me wonder if humans didn’t invent those practices so much as observe them.
Somewhere out there, a cat probably invented yoga and we just copied the poses and added expensive mats.
But right now, she’s resting. And I’m watching. And hoping.
I’m reminding myself that most of the time, these things turn out okay. That a little treatment, a little care, and she’ll be back to sprinting through the house like a furry comet with no regard for physics or furniture.
Still… if you’re the praying type, say one for Whiskey Kitty. If not, send a little good energy her way. I’ll take all of it.
And if you’ve got a pet you love, you already understand. They don’t just live in your home. They live in your heart, rearranging the furniture without asking permission.
So here’s to Whiskey Kitty getting her strength back, her speed back, her spark back.
And here’s to holding on to the ones we love, even when worry tries to tell a different story.
Once again, I got this. 🐾
meow!
by Dan and Bonkers
SUPPORT MENTAL HEALTH AWARENESS TODAY!!!
