There came a point, about two years ago, when I realized that Millie is considered "geriatric" at the vet's office. It truly floored me. "She's not OLD," I exclaimed at the time.
Today is Millennium Joy's eleventh birthday (well, it's the birthday I gave her because no one knows for sure). By anyone's standards, she's an old lady, but I like to think she's young at heart, and sassy as she ever was. She still shows moments of feistiness and playfulness. She's all too happy to knock Harley down a peg or two when he gets too big for his britches. She's still curious about the world around her, and loves to sit in windows watching Bird TV.
One thing that has never changed--she adores her mama (and her mama adores her right back).
My bond with Millie is special. I had cats and dogs all my life, but she was the first cat that was truly mine--not the family's cat. She loves me above any other human she knows, because I am hers. It's a wonderful bond, and one I feel so very lucky to have. It's a bond forged through hectic finals weeks as a young kitten drove her human counterpart crazy and over the many years since as I've grown, changed, had my heart broken, mended, suffered anxiety, found myself again, moved (too many times) and forged ahead into adulthood. Millie has been a constant.
Twice, she's gotten sick enough that I've worried about losing her. Every day that she remains healthy and happy, I am thankful. My greatest fear is losing her--I'll never be ready for that.
Happy Birthday, Millennium Joy, my Millie Joyful, who brings so much happiness into my life. Here's to many more happy, healthy years.
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