Nov. 25th, 2011

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Today, I took my cat Northey to the vet for a standard day of vet care - grooming, vaccines, the like. She's 13, had been a little lackluster, and her last vet visit was seven months ago, so it was time. I expected to post amusing "shaved pussy" photos on the Web afterwards. Instead, I got a call from the vet. They wanted to drain fluid from her lungs, and to send her to another vet for an ultrasound. The words "dyspnea" and "neoplasia" were uttered. "Neoplasia" is vet talk for "tumors." I gave approvals, and picked up a very upset feline two hours later.

We're back home. Northey crawled under the kitchen table, a very sensible reaction to the events of the day. I brought her a glass of water - she prefers to drink from a glass. After a period of distressed heavy breathing, she has conked out, right where she laid herself.

Oh, Northey. It'll be a sad day when I can leave a glass of water unattended in this house.

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tyellas

December 2012

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