My 20-year-old kitty

The day after I got back from the Romance Writers of America Conference in New York City, my precious Albert turned twenty–that’s well over a hundred in cat years. My heart lifted when I saw him tottering down the hall to greet me on his increasingly shaky legs.

Is she awake yet? It's breakfast time!

People ask me how we got him to this venerable age. The vet says a strong constitution and lots of loving care. I add another reason: he has always been very vocal in letting us know his needs (see pic of him in alarm clock mode). In short: non-stop meowing until he demands are met! We sometimes say that if he could talk and people asked him his name he would reply: “My name is Shut-up Albert.”

I am ¬†grateful to have had this special animal with me for this long and continue to cherish every moment–yes, even when he’s yowling!

Snug on his 20th birthday

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