Sick cats are no fun

The Bear has been sick.

She hasn’t been eating much, she’s been pukey, she’s been pulling her own hair out, she’s been lethargic. She has felt so poorly that she’s spent most of her waking hours snuggled up against me. Not attacking. That is truly unusual.

So on Monday we went to the vet. My svelte 9.5 lb. kitty is down to almost 8.5 lbs. in less than a year. Nothing angers Bear more than a trip to the vet. The vet poked and prodded a bit while Bear growled, hissed and generally threw a fit. With claws. Then they knocked her out to draw blood and take X-rays.

Early Tuesday morning, Bear had to go back for an endoscopy — her second, actually. The first was in 2007 and led to a diagnosis of inflammatory bowel disease. For the endoscopy, the vet knocked her out again, shaved part of Bear’s left front leg for an IV, and a large square patch on her neck. So now she kind of looks like she was trying for a poodle haircut.

We won’t know the test results until Friday or Monday. Until then, I have an unusually clingy cat.

(Mid-blog post, I moved from the computer to grab dinner. Bear sat down on the keyboard and typed: ‘;//yuuuuuuuuzxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx………………. Yep, that pretty much sums it up.)