He's living as hard as he can.
He's so present. He wakes us up at 6:30 a.m., not having gotten the memo about the time change. He does this on the weekends now, as well, having discovered that he needs hooman assistance to access teh wet food. Husband (who can go back to sleep after being awakened) heroically goes downstairs to feed him, knowing that I cannot go back to sleep after being awakened.
He follows us everywhere. He will quite possibly kill me by tripping me on the stairs. I accept this as part of the deal.
When I am in the bathroom, and have the audacity to lock him out, I am serenaded by the doorknob rattling constantly.
He likes the new feeding schedule, which is basically: he gets fed whenever he wants to. He indicates that he wants to by meowing. Actually, squawking. Loudly and persistently.
About every half-hour or so.
He still chases his dad's ties across the bed every morning, and runs up the stairs faster than any cat ever did, ever.
He's 12. And his kidneys are starting to fail.
He goes once a week to the vet to get a subcutaneous injection of fluids. He doesn't much like going, 'cause he's comfy at home. But he doesn't complain, and he doesn't notice the actual procedure at all.
In between, he is living as hard as he can.