I don’t really have time to write today. Iris was simpering around me this a.m. and what I like about myself is it took me awhile to notice. I was doing my usual morning stuff, which involves letting Edsel in and out 47 times (he has a ritual) and feeding the cats—including hoisting giant Lily up to the dryer so she can eat like she needs it—when I was finally conscious of Iris walking around me, winding her way around my ankles.
“IRIS!” I exclaimed. I’d already lifted her to the dryer, site of many cat foods for her eating pleasure, first thing and she’d shown no interest.
In the end, it turns out she would eat if I fed her away from everyone else, holding the bowl in my hands, and only after I’d broken her canned food up into teensy bits. But she ate. A little.
So now it’s 8:18 and I really can’t stay (but baby, it’s cold outside. Here’s a roofie). But I did want to tell you about the questionnaire the vet left in the bag of Iris’s liquid antibiotics.
It’s a quality of life questionnaire and it turns out I have none.
It was a really very helpful list of questions you rate from 0 (oh hells yes this is my dying pet) to 2 (you’re outta your mind) and then you add up your score. Questions like, Is the pet hanging out with everyone else (that was one of the things that led me to call the vet: She’s been in the bedroom almost all the time), is the pet eating and drinking (I gave that a 2, but now she’s eating a little yesterday and today), has the pet’s disposition changed, as in does she still abhor the stuff she hates (no; she’s still charming Iris who hates nothing, mostly).
Anyway, my score was right at the beginning range of yes, the end is near but you probably don’t have to call the hearse just yet.
I’m not going to be the person who doesn’t call the vet until the cat is soiling itself and all bones, either, though.
I’d better go. I have to be “at work” in one minute. I’ll be dividing my time between working and obsessing about this cat.