I've turned in to the cat blog lady. I like and maybe love my cat now. She hasn't peed on the fridge in almost 2 months. But she hasn't eaten or drank much in about one month. She's lost 4 pounds. I took her the vet. She peed in my car twice. I didn't feel like I wanted to kill her. She was sick and scared. We both were. I thought we were going on a long drive towards the big sleep. I cried a little. I pet her. I told her I loved her and she lived. I wasn't disappointed to be bringing her back home. I fed and watered her through a syringe twice a day. She grew stronger. I cut her nails for my personal safety. I bathed her with Head and Shoulders cause she smelled like she'd been sleeping in her piss, and that's all I had in the house. I dried her vigorously with a towel. She protested and hid, humiliated behind the washer until the coast was clear. I set up a little section for her on the floor with the fluffy towel she prefers. I scratched her cheeks, she purred for the first time in weeks.
But she's still not right. She doesn't hate me at all. I feel safe leaving my shoes out. I have to carry her to lay with me on the sofa. She hasn't got the strength to jump up on the coffee table. Will she ever be herself again? Is this the new Mimi? Frail, skinny, so tired and friendly with no fight in her at all? Will we ever be frenemies again? I want her to feel better. To jump on what she's not supposed to. Get fat. Bring lizards from outside to play with. And, now that it's summer, kill the giant roaches that come in the house to cool off in the AC.
