It’s your blog host here with a post about my cat.
I had a cat named Nermal that I rescued when he was a few days old. I didn’t think he would survive into adulthood, but after bottle feeding him and being his “mother,” he lived. I had him 20 years. In the last year of his life, he developed hyperthyroidism and a few of the side effects are deafness, weight loss (even though he was constantly eating) and a meow that is hard to describe. It’s very loud and pitiful sounding, almost like he was howling. Since he was so old, I decided not to get him treated. The radiation treatment alone would have done him under. So, for a year he howled. And howled! AND HOWLED! Here is a picture:
During the night, he’d wander the hallways and the rest of the house, howling at the top of his lungs. In my sleepy stupor, I’d always holler, “Be quiet Nermal!” Of course, since he was deaf, it didn’t work, so I would hunt him down and bring him back to bed, only to have him lie there for about 20 minutes before starting his wandering and howling all over again. Those were very long nights.
Anyway, I wound up having to have him put to sleep this past July because he was virtually wasting away to nothing (his weight loss was worse because of the hyperthyroidism) and he was developing paralysis in his rear legs, making him too wobbly to walk. It was a humane choice, but it was very hard to let him go and I knew I would miss the little turd. He was brought home and buried that afternoon.
That night, while sleeping, I heard him howling up and down the hall. In my sleepy stupor again, I yelled out, “Be quiet, Nermal!” Of course, he wasn’t there.
The next morning, I was in the process of officially waking up (I’m not a morning person, so this is literally a process for me), I was yawning and rubbing my eyes and just laid there staring at the ceiling, thinking that coffee sounded really good.
That was when I heard him, yet again. Meowing up and down the hallway, like he’d always done. I still hear him occasionally, but the days of silence are growing steadily. I think he probably found my golden retriever, Tillie, (who died a few years ago) in heaven and she’s probably telling him to keep his mouth shut!
It does make me feel better that he’s still around, even if it’s not as frequent.