Part caregiver, part companion

Almost a year ago, I wrote an article about the advantages of pet therapy. I mentioned how when caring for my dad, there were an uncountable amount of times when he became completely saturated with confusion. This is where my assistant caregiver would step in. I simply placed our cat, a Russian Blue named Kitty, onto his lap and casually told him that Kitty was in dire need of some love and attention. As if on cue, by the time the purring had commenced, my father's anxiety and bewilderment utterly vanished.

The one thing I didn't write about, because I honestly didn't think anybody would believe me, is that Kitty had developed the habit of waking me by jabbing her paw into my shoulder, which was her way of telling me she needed to use the great outdoors.

Like clockwork, every morning at 6 a.m. she would sit inches from my face, waiting for me to stir. I started to theorize that she must have acquired her own watch. One morning, strictly out of tempo, she began her poking routine at 3 a.m. I brushed her aside and closed my eyes in the attempt of more essential sleep. Within minutes I was awakened by her piercing claws penetrating the skin of my chest. Jumping out of bed yelling, "I get the hint," I opened the front door only to be surprised that there was no cat to be let out. I looked into the next room and there was my dad, lying flat on his back, staring straight up at the ceiling with Kitty licking the side of his face.

This cat actually came and woke me up to inform me that my father had fallen coming out of the bathroom! A dog I might expect this from, but a cat? It just completely astonished me.

Cats have a way of sensing things that are uncanny. The last two weeks that my father was with us, Kitty absolutely refused to enter my father's bedroom. The night before he passed I was sitting beside his bed holding his hand, when I watched the cat take two steps over the threshold, then turn and run as if she was being chased by a banshee.

Suddenly, she became my caregiver. Sitting on my lap, consoling me through the sorrow of my father's final departure; a true friend.

Unfortunately, now I have to mourn her passing. But, I'm sure my dad will be happy to have his friend back licking his face.

Ms. Kitty was a companion, a caregiver, and a hero.

For more info

Gary LeBlanc was the primary caregiver of his father for more than eight years after he was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease and he has just published a collection of his articles in a book named, "Staying Afloat in a Sea of Forgetfulness." The book can be found at www.stayingafloatbook.com, Amazon or Barnes and Noble. He can be e-mailed at us41books@ bellsouth.net.