Now I get it....

When I was little, we lived in what seemed like a big house (to my small self) in the country. We had a variety of dogs and cats throughout my childhood.

Cats came and went, and we took care of them to the standard of the times in the 1970's, which means we fed them and gave them water, and if they got worms or fleas or ticks, we would provide the adequate remedy. But cats weren't always spayed or neutered. And quite a few of them met their maker due to late night quarrels with other animals or reptiles...one cat was bit by a snake and died. I remember a dog of ours being hit by a car. Countless cats were hit by cars or simply disappeared.

One of our cats lasted a long time...Whiskers. She was gray, and a very sweet natured cat. For some reason we didn't have her spayed, and as a result, she provided our family with litters and litters of kittens. While nothing could be better for a little girl, now I see her life in a totally different light.

I remember Whiskers being pregnant a lot. When my Mom thought she was ready to deliver, she set up an easy to access cardboard box lined with old towels in a closet for Whiskers for her labor and delivery. As a child, I remember my Mom showing the box to Whiskers, and eventually, like a duck to water, Whiskers would end up lying in the box for what seemed like days and weeks on end. She would lay in the box, and I remember her looking so huge....swollen to three times her normal size, looking absolutely miserable. She would moan. She would stare back at me apprehensively...because now that I think about it, a child standing by with doll clothes that may or may not fit the pregnant cat was probably not a welcome sight for Whiskers.

So, like I said, in the box she would stay for the remainder of her pregnancy. We would bring food to her. I would continuously peak in to see if the kittens had come yet, and my Mom would shoo me away and tell me to leave her alone. My Mom got it. And now I get it.

I'm starting to feel like the cat in the box. Not much energy. Swollen to three times my size. Gratefully accepting snacks because, well, not to sound whiny, but everything hurts when I change positions. Going from a lying position to a standing position is a challenge. I ask myself if I really need to pee a couple of times before actually getting up to go.

I suppose I'm at the same point as the cat in the closet...waiting for the time to pass. A little bit apprehensive, a little bit uncomfortable, a little bit cranky.