Abbey's Road: On guard against Cat-astrophe

A couple weeks ago, I got a text from my friend Katrina.

“We’re heading to the beach for a week, is there a chance you can take care of Rowsdower while we’re gone?”

Rowsdower is Katrina’s 20-year-old obese ginger cat. I agreed without a second thought because Katrina is my friend. And because cat people take care of one another. And because, unlike dogs, cats are capable of subsisting for extended periods of time without the warmth of human presence and touch, preferring to find a spot in the sun and block out the outside world.

Therefore, they are easy to take care of, and “easy” is something my absent-minded self can do.

Abbey's Road: When parenting and love come full circle

Rowsdower, I should say, is the real-life equivalent of Garfield — sans the penchant for lasagna and dry sense of humor (though I like to think that if Rowsdower had a thought bubble following him around, it would reflect similar sentiments). He is more inclined to snub you than sit in your lap, and even if he wanted to do the latter, the jump would likely be enough to discourage him.

In Rowsdower’s defense, he’s put in his time. What began as a quiet existence with two relatively quiet human beings at some point became punctuated with bouts of screaming and crying in a family of four; then, being toted around the house by grubby toddler hands; and after the twins were too old to care much, another tiny human joined the fray — in addition to a dog who was later replaced by another dog.

But as the day of Katrina’s departure crept closer, it occurred to me that, should The Worst happen while they vacationed in Paradise, I would be left to manage the crisis.

And suddenly this was very unnerving.

I asked my friend how many of his nine lives Rowsdower has used in his two decades on Earth.

“Not many,” she mused, trying to come up with even an instance of a brush with death or other mishap that would count against his total.

At this I sighed in relief, because if he had been on eight or even seven, I’m not sure I could have accepted the assignment.

As it was, I was having trepidations.

“When was the last time you had him at the vet?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Not sure.”

“Do you feel like his heart is still strong? Does he have any illnesses that you’re aware of? And most importantly, am I going to walk into your home some Tuesday to see that he has crossed the Rainbow Bridge?”

Because this was my actual, selfish concern.

“KATRINA, YOUR CAT CANNOT DIE ON MY WATCH.”

Her response caught me off-guard.

“Oh, I’ve already thought about that,” she said in a way that was entirely too cavalier.

“You HAVE?”

“Yep. Just put him in a bag and put him in the garage freezer, we can bury him when we get back.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I mean, he’s had a good number of years, his time has to be coming soon. It’ll be fine, trust me.”

And then she went back to eating her croissant.

Abbey's Road: Making Kindness Count

So began ten days of vacation for her and ten days of extreme anxiety for me, as every other day when I crossed her threshold, I expected to find a lifeless Rowsdower draped over a chair arm or under the kitchen table or (heaven forbid) in the litter box, just…waiting.

I am pleased to report at this time that, so far, Rowsdower appears to be kicking. He has even greeted me with a “meow” at each of my visits, which is unusual for him.

I know that cat people look out for cat people, and I am certain I can someday count on Katrina to take care of our feline companions (who are more likely to do away with one another than to independently kick the bucket) while we’re gone.

All I’m saying is that if you’re a senior cat owner, be like Katrina and at least have a contingency plan. Because your fellow cat people, though they are cat people and not dog people for a reason, would actually be very sad if your furry friend checked out on their watch.

And now a special note for Rowsdower: As of this writing, there are three days left until your family returns. Please, please PLEASE stay with me.

Sincerely,

Abbey

Abbey Roy is a mom of three girls who make every day an adventure. She writes to maintain her sanity. You can probably reach her at amroy@nncogannett.com, but responses are structured around bedtimes and weekends.

This article originally appeared on Newark Advocate: Abbey is concerned about watching her friend's senior cat