Terry the Dragon

 

This is Terry.

Terry is my cranky old kitty. He is 16 years and 10 months old. He bites people if they touch his belly, but he loves to show it off. I have to gas him with anaesthetic gas in order to get blood out of him, or really do anything invasive. (It’s ok, I used to be a vet, before the Fibro Troll took that away.)  He doesn’t like cuddles, but he likes to hang out next to you, or lean on your leg while you are sleeping. He is aloof, contrary and he might have been a dragon in a past life and I love him to bits.

He’s got hyperthyroidism (overactive thyroid gland) and his kidneys are failing and he needs medication twice a day and special food and has worked out a new level of demanding. He knows he gets tin food with all his medications, so he refuses to eat his regular dry food. He also expects you to sit with him and feed him little bits of food until he is full. He is underweight, so I can’t just use tough love and walk away. But that’s ok. He is my fur baby and I doubt he’ll make it to 17. So he gets (almost) whatever he wants.

He likes helping me sew. And by helping, I mean getting in the way while I try to cut fabric and expecting pats.

 

 

 

And stealing my yoga mat. 

He does not like us to go away.

 

 

 

 

 

But he will happily sit in a masking tape square on the floor or in a box.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And he takes a mean selfie.

 

 

 

My Cranky old man only worked out how good laps are to sit on in the last few years. He only does it when it’s cold, and only if you have a blanket or dressing gown over your legs. It’s one of the few things I love about winter.

He hated our dogs, and only just tolerated our other cat, so when he became an only fur-child 2 years ago, we decided not to get any more pets. We did get the aquaponics fish pond (I’ll write about that another day) but he just thinks that it is an oversized water bowl for him on the deck.

And speaking of my endearing little dragon. He just walked past, gave me a very pointed look and headed outside to the deck. The deck is the only outside he gets these days, so I might head out and join him for some sunshine.

Author: Sonja

One woman’s journey as she comes to terms with living with Fibromyalgia. Living with her knight in tarnished armour, with a small flock of chickens, and pair of Tawny Frogmouths and a homicidal Butcher Bird in the backyard.