It’s lovely to get them home again, though overwhelming after being out of the routine that keeps us all fed, watered and mostly sane.
This time, when I collected them Mystic had been very low-spirited and not keen on food. All week. Of course a cat with terminal cancer will have bad days, but a week is alarming. The kind cattery aunts had been hand-feeding him bits of chicken and getting his meds gently down him.
Tuesday bedtime I lay awake planning how I would phone the vet first thing and get someone to come round and assess whether this was the end. [Stop me if you’ve heard that before. Yes, I thought you had.]
He didn’t want his tea and remained very depressed all evening in spite of cuddles.
Then Wednesday he had three quite decent meals and has so far had two the same today – little and often for old tummies.
He’s much less dejected and avidly seeking cuddles, indeed just before I started this he came upstairs to the office for a desktop cuddle, one of his recent things. He didn’t stay long, but purred a good deal, maybe saying thanks for bringing him home.
No trips scheduled now for a few months; his weight-loss is faster and his nose worse, so realistically I may not have to worry about that next cattery date. But if he is still here by then, I guess I’ll have to hire a home-carer!