Lady Fishpaste, my mother cat, has definitely hit senile dementia, which does involve a fair amount of puddles round the house. Bless her heart, she follows the brush when I am sweeping up the cat biscuits or, surprisingly, the vacuum cleaner when I'm cleaning the carpet (having previously hated the noise it made). She sits in a room and can't remember why she's there and howls for someone to come and get her. She's not in pain, just terribly confused. The fonts – her offspring, especially the two girls – mostly look after her. (Her elder son is naughty and every now and again shakes by her her ears until I shout and threaten to do the same to him. Wouldn't you know it?) She's clearly not got long left, but if we can make the last few months okay, then fine. If necessary I shall ask the vet to give her steroid injections which do make confused old cats feel better (done that one before).