Living with Dementia–The Magic of a Ginger Cat with White Boots

I am amazed at how quickly a stray, ginger cat with white boots–purring on my lap– can lift my mood. It hasn’t been an easy 2 weeks since my husband, Dave, received a medical driver’s form to be filled in within 45 days–or he loses his license. There is a .001% chance he will be allowed to continue driving. 3 years ago Dave was diagnosed with Frontotemporal dementia and the specialist warned us this day would come.

Dave has a remarkable attitude toward his dementia. He hasn’t been angry or upset…until now. He has some insight into his condition– he knows his personality is changing quickly and thanks me for ‘putting up with him’. But, he doesn’t understand why he should lose his license. “I will sue the doctor who takes away my license”. I turn blue trying to explain why he is a risk on the road, but it doesn’t penetrate his illogical brain. He LOVES driving and there is no getting around it. Dave wants to take the test and show them he is a good driver. Before he takes the road test, he has to pass a 50 question written exam. “Do you think you can pass it?” He quietly says…”probably not…but I still don’t see why it makes a difference just because I have Alzheimer’s?” He forgets he has FTD, not Alzheimer’s.

Winter is coming. The shorter days and lack of sunshine makes it more difficult to feel happy. I understand that I shouldn’t let external circumstances dictate my moods; sometimes I can’t help it. Life isn’t always fun. Living with dementia is much harder than I thought; much longer than I imagined. My mom and sister had cancer, and their disease followed the time lines set out by the doctors. The acute pain and grief of losing them, plus the roller coaster of emotions, lasted less than a year. But dementia isn’t following any neat guidelines. I find myself shaking my head when I listen to Dave struggling to find words, or when I look at him sitting on the couch with a vacant stare. I can’t believe this is the strong, funny guy I married 31 years ago.

As I sit here writing my story, it is 4:30 am—the best part of the day. I have a cup of coffee, my computer and best of all…I have Marty, purring on my lap. When I pet his soft fur or look at his adorable white boots crossing over each other, I momentarily forget about the worries of running the household or taking care of Dave. At 6 o’clock, I let our springer spaniels, Riley and Emma, out of their bedroom; I laugh as they wrestle each other to the door. There is over 30 stellar jays and Clarke nutcrackers waiting in the trees for their morning peanuts, and dozens of goldfish in our pond weaving through the reeds.

Being outside–surrounded by nature and animals–is my salvation. It interrupts the chatter in my brain and gives me mini breaks of fun and laughter. It cuts through the winter sadness–lifting my spirits enough to show me how great my life is. I am forever grateful to these creatures. They live a simple life; in the moment… reminding me that life doesn’t have to be as complicated as I make it out to be. I never imagined that a ginger cat with white boots could start my day off with such magic.

My Sister Kissing Marty’s Boots