J.J.’s still here, still drinking and peeing, although the eating and pooping has slowed down. I’ve been giving him sub-q fluids and that seems to help, and he’s sleeping a lot. There are two beds set up on the futon and Jessie or Jeremy tend to join him at least once during the day—a couple of days ago I watched in fond amusement as Jeremy carefully climbed into J.J.’s bed and curled around him, and today J.J. was back-to-back with Jessie for a couple of hours. I don’t know if they’re trying to keep him warm or provide some pack comfort, but I’m glad they’re doing it.
I’m also bathing The Elderly Gentleman daily and sometimes twice a day, depending on how he feels and whether he’s gotten pee or poop in his fur. It’s not a big deal—I stand him on the bathroom counter with my hand bracing him under his ribcage and wipe him down with a warm, wet cloth until he’s clean, then gently rub him dry with a terrycloth square. I also have to clean his undercarriage and I’ve become more familiar with his penis than I ever expected to be (his pooper duper I’m used to).
And yeah, this may seem like a lot to some people. But J.J. is the cat of my heart, and if I was old and tired I’d want people to take care of me as well. He’ll go when he’s ready (and if he needs medical intervention we’ll provide that, but so far he hasn’t shown signs of wanting that yet).
In the meantime he seems happy to curl up on his bedding and watch me make dinner, hang out with the twins, and snooze. As long as he’s content, that’s all that matters.