With my every visit she is a little more brittle. She's almost weightless, like ancient paper-thin china. Seemingly birdlike, as if with pneumatized bones holding a charcoal mantle of silky fur over them. And yet she meows her opinions, purrs assents and hisses protests unfailingly and her slit-pupiled gaze is as arresting as ever. Verdant irises like pools of ineffable wisdom. Claws still needle sharp. I dread the day the light will blink out of those eyes.