When I got home from work this afternoon, my neck was sending me all kinds of pain. I'd been looking forward to lying down on my bed with a heating pad. This I did, and the cats came. As usual, Lucy was the first. She's the oldest of my three at about 17 years. She's always been in excellent health.
As the heating pad warmed up, Lucy walked up on my chest and I started to give her a gentle massage. After a few minutes, I got an uncomfortable feeling about her. She seemed to have a distant, dazed expression. Her head appeared to quiver a couple of times. I interpreted that as an indication that she was in pain.
Like an idiot, I immediately worried that she was very ill. I was rubbing her tummy and crying and assuming the worst.
Lucy changed position to lie down on my lap, but she didn't lower her head. I continued to worry until Ginny jumped up on the bed and started idly messing with Lucy. Lucy hissed and swatted at Ginny a couple of times. This was a good thing. Still, Lucy moved away from Ginny and indicated that she wished me to rub her tummy. I did that for a while and then I felt the slightly annoyed twitching of her tail. This indicates that's she's had enough petting. I continued to rub her tummy though, hoping she would bite my hand. She did--praise be.
At one point, when I was fearing the worst, I thought, "L-rd, take me... not her." But my cats depend on me. I have to feed them and take care of them. So, it's like this big, fricking mess about the order of death. I wish I knew the answer.