This year hasn’t been the happiest for my mini-zoo. Beloved friends have left us, and horrendous illnesses have limited our lives.
I’ve already written about my old lady Susu, who, in human terms, is approaching 90 years old. Yet this cat’s health remains very good except for the terrible arthritis in her hip joints and hind legs.
Susu lives on the third floor of the townhouse, and the only time she leaves that floor is when she falls down the stairs to the landing, where I find her lying helplessly, waiting for me to carry her back to her own personal kingdom.
Then the falls down the stairs no longer occur, until a month later, when I wake up one morning – and find Susu on the landing again.
She stares at me as in, “Woke up late, did you? Made me wait, did you?”
The next few mornings, she seems to be always on the landing. I begin to worry. Is the old lady going blind? I know her eyesight has been failing, but she still can see well enough to find the food in her dish.
Then, one morning, while I’m bringing Susu her breakfast, I find her on the stairs again. This time, though, she hasn’t fallen down to the landing. Instead, she’s three steps down on the stairs.
Then, to my complete surprise, she gives her upper body a push. Slowly and gently, her shoulders fall to the next step.
With her upper body on the lower step and her lower body on the higher step, she pushes with a back leg and the rest of her ends up on the lower step.
She rests for a few moments, then pushes her upper body down to the next step, then her back legs. All the time, she’s looking at me, as in, “Do I have to do everything myself?”
I suddenly understand. Susu hasn’t been falling down the stairs by accident; she’s been falling down the stairs on purpose.
Is she giving any thought to how she’ll get back upstairs? I don’t know. Maybe she knows I’ll carry her back up. Animals, however, live in the moment.
They might think a bit about the past if they’ve learned any lesson, but I doubt they think much about the future.
They’re pretty much in the here and now, as is Susu, who’s heading for the ground floor, where she knows her food is.
There’s only one solution. From now on, I bring her food to her on time and make sure there’s lots of it. The journeys down the stairs seem to have stopped – for now.
I guess there's something to be said for de- termination. In this new year, from my mini-zoo to yours, may we all wish you health, happiness and wealth – and all the determination you need to make it through whatever you face in the coming year, even if you have to do it shoulder by shoulder.