I'd been expecting it, but not really. In the way you expect to win the lottery, but never really expect to win the lottery - if that makes sense.
I guess I'd almost be wanting it to happen too.
Well, before you get ALL up in arms about that sentence, he was 12, 3 months shy of 13. Around 68 years in human terms. In the last year or so he'd decided that he didn't really like to use the litter box to pee. For him, right beside the litter box was good enough, or failing that, on any nice soft thing. Towels, rugs, socks – any comfortable material item near the litter box was better than actually stepping into it. For Artemis, taking the trip inside the box was strictly for his number twos.
I'm not sure what changed in his mind about this, but I do know it was really frustrating. For the first few months when he made the decision to not pee in the box, I didn't realize he wasn't using the litter box.
I'd get home, and notice a pool on the floor around the box. At first I thought the litter box had a leak in it. I put down plastic, and then I attempted to try and find the leak in the box itself. I pressure tested it, searched for cracks and became quite flummoxed.
I even switched the box out for a new container, but it still kept happening.
Finally this precipitated the move of the litter box from the back hallway to the bathroom, as I figured a urine wash probably wasn't the best thing for hardwood floors, and tile was much easier to disinfect.
After the move, I discovered it was actually the old boy peeing in the litter box proximity. After an examination of him and the house I just gave in and bought some designated "Artemis towels". He'd use those to pee on and I'd wash them daily. This way he wouldn't feel the need to drag my pajamas or bathmat over to the litter box in the morning; it really worked out for both of us.
I guess this means I'll be going through a lot less bleach, and I can move the litter box back out of the bathroom. (Luna still being a lady does her business either in the great outdoors or in the coziness of the box.)
But I will miss his waiting by the door when I come home, and his insistence that one helping of dinner wasn't enough, or just one helping of breakfast come to that. The consummate fatman, he was already thinking about his next meal while he was wiping away the crumbs of his current feast.
I didn't like him getting up on the bed once he decided that he also liked to go outside during the day. After both cats discovery of all things outside on the deck, I stopped letting my cats into my bedroom. Artemis being a very fluffy cat would get very dusty outside, and during the summer he'd have a weekly bath. During the colder months I wouldn't bathe him, as it just didn't seem fair.
I bought him a bed of his own to sleep in that was nice, soft and cozy – but, in the mornings if I left the bedroom door open while I showered, I'd enter the bedroom afterwards to find him comfortably ensconced in the middle of my bed.
Now Artemis was always a large cat, and unlike Luna he has never been one to jump "up" on things. I was quite proud of his efforts to get on my bed that I just let him stay. I purchased a new bed this year and it is probably about a foot and a half taller than my old bed.
I got to witness his "climb" one morning – it was all brute strength and claws. He'd stand on his hind legs, and then like one of those crazy folks at 24 Hour Fitness climbing the rock wall, paw by paw he'd climb up the side of the bed until he could haul himself onto the flat, where, exhausted he collapse on a pillow for a snooze.
The crook in his tail, his really high voice, his blue eyes and chocolate points.
I guess I'll miss the companionship of these last 13 years.
