At the 5am feed I found myself nursing Jack and adoringly watching Boy groom himself most thoroughly from head to toe. I love this little boy in a cat suit so much. 14.5 years together. It's been a wonderful journey that I hope would never end. Hence my constant worry about his health. Blockages can be fatal. I've been keeping an eagle eye on his litter box habits but between work and baby, it's been hard catching him in action.

So I did what any mother in my position would do. I raised the ire of the other kids and let him sleep in the bedroom with us. Since before bedtime till the last feed I fretted when he didn't use the pan. Twice yesterday afternoon he sniffed at it but didn't use it. I realise I'd forgotten to empty it after bringing it in. So I did. But still no dice. But he was drinking well and eating a lot.

Finally at the 8am feed he followed me to the bathroom and used the pan. After what seemed like eternity, he got up and cleaned himself methodically, from his feet to his paws. I stared into the pan and the anxiety drained from me. It was a large puddle, the size of my hand. I looked at Boy lovingly as he finished grooming and meowed for food. I told him later. I had to feed his baby brother first.

He understood, making himself comfortable while I nursed the baby, who seemed more interested in engaging me in a conversation than feeding.... He watched Jack fascinatedly, possibly pondering how something so small that looks and smells like Mom came to exist. We shared many blinks - cat language for I love you. I've never felt more content, with these two children close to me.

Update: He peed another respectable puddle at 920am and again, a palm-sized puddle at 11am (the latter time after his breakfast and I discovered he'd scurried to pee in the PeeWee pan which I placed in the hallway with newspaper shreddings of course!)