The Terminator . . . feline edition

The Walternator

If you should never judge a book by its cover, perhaps it’s equally true that you should never judge a cat by his medical profile.

At 11 years old, Walter is the senior man in our four-cat household. Despite a healthy appetite, he’s a bit thinner than we would like. In fact, frail is the word that comes to mind in describing him. Walt has a thyroid condition that requires him to take medication daily. He’s had kidney problems, and the vet has had to remove some of his teeth because of decay.

It was less than two years ago that we thought Walt was on the tail end of his ninth and final life when I found him lying on his side under a table, lethargic and unable or unwilling to move. A quick trip to the vet revealed that he simply needed to have his meds adjusted, but the episode gave us quite a scare.

So, as much as my wife Liz and I love Walt, we don’t exactly see him as the toughest and most fearsome of our felines. He’s more like an aging and ailing uncle who passes his days plopped in front of the tube, taking intermittent naps.

But Walt still has a gleam in his eye. And, it turns out, a spring in his claws.

When Liz and I went on vacation last week, the other cats stayed home, where a friend popped in daily to feed and water them, and to clean the you know what. We took Walt with us because of his twice-a-day medication regimen.

The oceanfront cottage that we rented was immaculate. But one morning while we were there, I spotted a mouse scurrying across the kitchen counter. I didn’t see or hear anything out of the ordinary the following morning. But when Liz checked in on Walt, he was sitting in front of his food bowl with a triumphant look on his face. And a very dead mouse at his feet.

“Once a cat, always a cat,” Liz said.