Wednesday, October 02, 2002

And zette sleeps, gets up...

And finds that a cat has vomited blood on the floor.

It wasn't Cricket. She was sick, mind you -- she had that sick kitty look with the glazed eyes and barely able to move from room to room. She had blood from her bladder. But she was not vomiting it as well.

I'm going to go stark raving over the top crazy.

I'm fairly certain now that it's Kincaid, our cat with kitty asthma. The odd thing is, he's acting far better than normal. He's not making his normal little gasping kitty noises. He's moving around a lot. His tail is up, his eyes are bright... His nose is cold.

I'm not going to worry. Obviously this is not a continual thing, and I'll talk to Russ about it tonight or tomorrow. I can't carry him down to the vet even if I wanted to -- no kitty carrier. And even if it was here -- well, he's just shy of 27 pounds. I can't lift that much weight any more without having severe back problems.

I don't know why my cats are doing this to me.

Maybe I ought to be the one carted off for a nice quiet stay somewhere.

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