Getting old isn't easy...

There is this door in our house.
If  I stand and stare at it long enough, my beautiful mamma opens it for me.

Inside is our laundry room, where mamma cleans all of our toys, blankets, and bed covers.  There are shelves behind the washer which hold all of her towels.

When I was younger, a year or two ago, once the door opened for me, I would jump up onto the washer and make my way to the back of one of the high shelves to sit and relax and meditate.

Now that I am aging, I cannot jump.
It makes me sad.

I wait at the door, as per usual, mamma comes and opens it for me. I stare longingly at the washer, turn my neck and I meow at my mamma.

She picks me up and places me on the washer so that I can nestle in and relax in my favorite spot.

Growing old isn't easy, but when you have a loving mamma to help you, it makes it a little less daunting.

❤