…is the last mile home, according to the old song. In my case it’s often the smelliest mile home too, as en route I need to pick up the cats from the cattery. There’s so little to do on the journey, pooing helps to occupy the time.

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!

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2 thoughts on “THE LONGEST MILE …

    1. They all seem to be resettled now, I do know how they feel though. Fluff through up his tea last night and Felix ambushed the door from garage to kitchen by pooing behind it this morning so when I came in from swimming and shopping it all squidged under the door. Yum! At least it’s not carpeted there! Dear old chasps 🙂


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