My blind cat.

I have a cat. His name is Salvador. He is twenty-three years old. He has been blind for the last five of those.

It's genetic the vet says- something about an Abyssinian gene.

It doesn't seem (blindness) to bother him that much. He knows my apartment well and the only time he has problems is when something changes, like when I leave the vacuum out or a door that is normally open is closed - then he bonks his head.

Once in awhile, when he can't find me he yowls, kind of like a momma cat for her kittens.

I pick him up and pet him and reassure him I'm here and he's happy.

In the late evenings he likes to go out on the 2nd story deck of my apartment and do (what I call) a "stroll and sniff."

He walks down the deck, sniffing the air and from what I can tell his nose still tells him more about his world then I can ever deduce.


There was a day when he ruled this apartment complex, kept the strays away and lived to torture my neighbors dog.

But Salvador is retired now and is living out his last days, eating, purring, strolling and sniffing.



Some people say I should have him put down, but as long as he isn't in any pain and can still extract some joy out of life (like curling up on my lap, using his paw to scrape the sides of his bowl to get that last bit of tuna) I'll let him be.

I know some day, I'll have to set his kitty-soul free of its' blind and earthly entrapment, but until that day, Salvador will be my cat.

-Steve