Number Fifty-eight...And Thirteen...

This year, I am foregoing my traditional birthday post which you can read here at Fifty-Seven.

Most birthdays pass amid good wishes, cake, or plans with friends. Thirteen years ago, however, I was a working woman and left my employer after putting in some weekend hours. En route to my destination, I pondered and then dismissed the idea of idea of not following through on what I planned. My heart over ruled my head, as it has many times, not all of them smashing successes.

Awaiting my arrival was a smart, funny and curious boy in a box whose eyes grew large upon hearing my voice. He did not yet have a name although his hold on my heart was secure. My gentle, "Hello sweetheart," was rewarded with a robust meow, as if to say, "I've been waiting patiently, now get me out of here!"

His persistence grew as we came up the walk to the front door and I placed the key in the lock. Once inside, things went awry quickly. I had every intention of following my vet's advice and placing him in my small bathroom so the other cats, all older females, could meet him slowly.

Having spent months in a cage as an orphan, he, however, was having none of that and made a mad dash beyond its confines just as the door was about to close, barreling around the front room and through the rest of the flat at breakneck speed. This, of course, alarmed the three divas, who scattered for cover immediately, incensed at not only his intrusion but complete lack of decorum.

I spent most of the next week alternately receiving bunts from his head into my hands, engaging in lap time and refereeing meals as I cuddled all four felines, hoping that they would all adapt and peace would be restored. It took two weeks for the hissing to cease and a good three months before all of them could occupy separate corners in the same room. I tried various monikers, and Jacob was the only one to which he responded, so it stuck. Never shy or skittish, Jacob was polite, never taking food that wasn't his, quietly petitioning for a pet or a cuddle by placing his paw on my nearest foot, and waiting until Samantha, the senior of the bunch, had settled herself before deciding where he would stay. Guard duty became his domain, as nightly he stationed himself at my feet, eyes on the door while the girls and I slept.

Always loving and devoted to me, he was and is a total lap cat. It wasn't until he became the only remaining feline in our home that I was fully able to appreciate the depth of our bond, something which still amazes and gives me pause. At almost sixteen, he is now quite elderly and facing the eventual shut down of his kidneys, a condition for which there is no cure or reversal. He is on special food and three daily medications as well as receiving regular subcutaneous fluids. He sleeps more often, but when awake, is quite active, playing with toys, enjoying his food and always alert to where I am and what is happening. He is a joy and the one birthday gift for which I'll be forever grateful.