CCL post #93.

Her Majesty has gone downhill this past week. She spent the day at the vet getting fluids and various other pokes and prods, and I took the catless opportunity to vacuum the apartment, I mean, really run that sucker (haha, no pun intended) without causing anyone sheer terror. When she got home this afternoon she actually ran all over the place for about 10 minutes in joyful bliss at being uncaged (it was really funny). She's eaten almost half a can of food (which, after not eating or drinking for almost two days, is HUGE) and she was just very interested in the cat featured in the cat food commercial on TV, so I think we are in the clear for now.

But... if you would, just send some good juju our way. I'm feeling a bit like a failure lately even though I'm not sure what else I could be doing, other than effectively giving her pills - a point of stress and unhappiness for both of us daily now, so I've resorted to crushing them up in her food which she hasn't been eating lately. I'm increasingly growing concerned with leaving her for a week in March while I gallivant in Costa Rica. This cat-with-chronic-old-age-illness is all kind of new to me - all my previous cats were outside cats who lived 3-5 years before getting hit by cars. She is almost 11 years old which is 65 in people years. I am almost 34 years old which is 87 in Jen(n) years according to my doctor's recent "um, yeah, you're just getting old" diagnosis related to my lower back pain. I always look for her when I'm visiting the folks or staying at a hotel. She's become a habit. Like my 6am coffee. Or that crack pipe I keep in the bedroom.

When that dreadful day comes and she goes, foster cats all the way with lots of breaks in between. Not committing. NOT. Mark my words.