Mabel at Nineteen

Mabel is nineteen years old, which means she has outlived two apartments, three couches and one marriage. She is also the calmest creature I have ever met.

She is nearly deaf. She sleeps eighteen hours a day. Her favorite place in the world is the sunbeam on the dining room floor, and she follows it around the room all afternoon, shifting an inch at a time.

We have made her life easier. A low-sided litter box, a ramp up to the bed, a heated mat, and food warmed just slightly to bring out the scent. We see the vet every six months and keep a notebook of her appetite and weight.

When I come home she does not hear the door. She feels the floor. She lifts her head, blinks slowly, and I swear she smiles.

Nineteen years. I do not know how many more we get. I am trying to enjoy every sunbeam.