SENIOR SIDE OF LIFE: Cat tales

Dr. Michael Gordon

As part of my geriatric practice, I am always searching for ways to connect with my patients beyond the standard, “so what’s your medical concern?” 

I long ago learned the importance of discovering where my patients find enjoyment, solace and affection. Beyond the necessary discussions about symptoms and tests, diagnoses and treatments, it is important to explore areas of emotional support and connectivity. That domain often refers to interpersonal and family relationships as well as to fulfilling social groups.

Many of my patients live alone – either as part of their lifelong lifestyle or because of the loss of their spouse. Children may live close by or further away, but rarely in the same house, although very occasionally they may be in the same building, and sometimes in the same neighbourhood. 

So it was with one of my female patients who had been referred to me because of possible cognitive impairment. It turned out she was not impaired, but was simply struggling with a confluence of many stresses in her life, including issues related to her own child. Gradually, over the first few months that I repeatedly saw her in the office to complete tests and adjust medications she was already on, things began to fall into place with her child, and those issues became less pressing. Concomitantly her mood improved, as did her thinking processes.

Eventually, she said, “I am not as preoccupied with my life and child and can get back to the things I like to do,” which involved creative and artistic pursuits. 

On one visit, she mentioned she had a cat that provided her with excellent company and emotional support. She laughed when she preceded her comments with, “This may sound silly to you, as most people understand this quality in dogs, but my cat is a wonderful companion and I really love her.”

To this I responded, “Well I have to agree with you. Yes, dogs are great, but cats are exceptionally intelligent, affectionate and loyal – and I know, as we have four of them.” 

Her face literally began to glow. “Four cats – how wonderful – what kind are they?” 

I explained the genealogy of our cats: two rescue creatures, one of them an old gal with a gamut of medical problems, and two purebred unrelated Abyssinians more than a year apart in age. 

We talked cats for about 15 minutes – almost giggling at their antics and evidence of devotion and intelligence. We had both experienced their unbridled sensitivity and affection when one of us had been ill, often hovering and literally not leaving our side until our symptoms of pain or fever gradually abated. 

When the office appointment finished and we finalized the medical instructions that would be communicated to her family doctor and what she would be expected to do until the next followup visit, she left and said, “Knowing that you too love cats has just made me feel a lot better and more secure in my affection for mine.” 

It was this sentiment that drew me, a few days later, to an article in the Aug. 4 New York Times, “A Man and His Cat” by Tim Kreider. In it, he says, “But I can tell you this, ‘A man who is in a room with a cat – whatever else we might say about that man – is not alone.’ There is no luuve… like the luuve… that exists between a man and his cat.” It resonated with the clinic appointment I’d had a few days earlier.

Although perhaps this is not stated in medical textbooks, findings ways to emotionally connect to older patients is important: at some time in the future, serious decisions may have to be made, and such connections and trust set the stage for successful clinical decisions.