Late Night Ramblings

Having a potentially terminally ill pet at home changes everything. My interactions with my husband are based around Callie. At night we curl up around the cat as she is generally snuggled inbetween us, under the covers, purring. I rush home after work to be with her. I feel guilty for going out to do the groceries. I even fear that last stretch of a mile before home, afraid of finding her failing or worse.

On the other hand I’m in limbo. It’s a waiting game to see what will happen. And the worst result is the quickest answer. If she gets better it will take a lot more time and it will be slow. But an end is an end. And I hate that I think this way and I know I really do want her to get better. I do, however, want out of limbo. I also want out of the sickening feeling that I am messing with karma by buying too much food for her.

When I arrived home this afternoon I grabbed half of the groceries and could see her through the side window already waiting. Today my husband took away her food after she finished breakfast to try and keep it fresh and I do believe our little girl was hungry. I came in the door and instantly took out her food and she immediately went to eating. I finished bringing the groceries in and as I was putting them away she seemed more interested in my food than hers. When I was finished I took out her baby food and she meowed her little heart out and ate quite heartedly. My dinner was a salad and I brought it upstairs so that I could sit at my desk and eat. Mike was working until close so he wouldn’t be home for hours yet.

Callie came up to join me and her little nose smelled something she liked in my dinner. Thus proceeded a game of Interactive Food Night. I ate, she tried to get into my food, meowing and sniffing. She even managed to get her paw in my plate at one point! Once finished I gave her the plate to sniff and she zeroed in on a leftover piece of shredded cheese. As she was opening her mouth to eat I pulled it away, quite certain that cheese would not be good for a cat! I moved my plate back to the small table behind me and she clawed her way up to my shoulder, reminding me that her nails need to be cut. She sat perched on the back of my chair, reminding me of the days when she was healthy and I would hate her climbing up there since it usually meant the start of “let’s bite mommy’s hair” time. However she didn’t initiate this game, even though my hair is pulled back into a bobbing ponytail, instead she just sat and watched my leftover dinner.




Now she’s mellowed out and on my lap, her tummy swelling enough to alter her usually position. She appears to be breathing normally and I’m thankful for that. I’ve tried to engage her in play but she not feeling good enough to do so. All she wants to do is eat or curl up. A lap cat to the enth degree.