Bernie

The cat above is named Bernie, a delightfully domestic old fellow who is still in touch with his inner bobcat.  He was born in New Mexico and is at least 17 years old.  My sister and her husband adopted him from a shelter while they were living there.  They also adopted an iguana named Lizzie and a spider named Olivia - all of them had the run of their hovel, which is what my sister affectionately called their very modest duplex.  When it came time to move back to Connecticut Lizzie and Olivia were left behind to other good homes, but Bernie was brought to the land of trees and snow... 

It was quite an adjustment for him.  He is a very athletic outdoorsy sort of cat who used to love running just for the sheer joy of it.  When my daughter's cat was living there with him for a while he would try and get her to play tag, but she just looked at him like he had to be kidding...  He enjoyed exploring the woods, but his main objection to Connecticut was the long snowy winters here.  Whenever it snowed he would go from window to window yowling, hoping to somehow spot a landscape without snow.  My brother-in-law took pity on him, and to this day shovels a few paths through the snow so Bernie can get his exercise without too much contact with the white stuff.

A few years ago he was taken to a veterinary ophthalmologist for a problem with his eyes.  They think he may have Lyme Disease, but whatever it is it has gradually robbed him of his vision.  They give him eye drops every day to slow down the progression, but he is now blind.  He does very well, though.  He still catches mice - we can't figure out how.  He gets around the house pretty well because most things stay where they are, but he bumps into people, my dad's wheelchair and stray laundry baskets or shopping bags inadvertently left in his path.  He seems to take it all in stride, though.

Since he had a run in with a fisher they aren't letting Bernie outside by himself any longer.  They've also had two coyotes near the house.  He gets several walks a day with whoever is on hand to escort him.  Last week Bernie and I took a walk and had a good time exploring the bushes, flowers and trees.  And I got this picture of him coming toward me, only possible because he doesn't run anymore.  He walks very carefully, but doesn't seem to feel sorry for himself.  I admire his spirit of acceptance and adaptation, making the best of things.