Poppy, the efficient kitty cat secretary
Poppy is very ill. Ever since her surgery two years ago, she has been losing weight, and lately she has been very listless. Yesterday my husband took her to the vet, who drained some fluid from her lungs and kept her overnight to observe her. This morning she had fluid around her lungs again, despite medication, and refused to eat or drink. My husband brought her home for one more night, and tomorrow she will go back to the vet to be euthanized.
When she got home this afternoon, Poppy headed for the door. Although she has always been an indoor-outdoor cat, she has not gone outside for the last month, but we let her go. In her healthier days, her response whenever she thought a trip to the vet was in the offing was to curl up somewhere and hide. Once I found her hiding amid the wisteria on the pergola, in the spot where the leaves were thickest, keeping very still. Now the azaleas are in bloom, and Poppy headed straight for them. Later, I found her curled up in the chiminea, asleep. After an hour or so, she crawled back to the door and we let her in. She's sleeping on the carpet.
Truffle, our feisty Siamese, has been unusually tender with her. Earlier he walked over to her and tried to groom her. He's been very subdued most of the day, as if he realizes he is about to become an only cat and doesn't think it's such a good idea after all.
I wonder, as I always do, what the world looks like to our cats. Poppy must know that something is very wrong. She meows at us to fix it and it breaks our hearts that we can't. Truffle seems to realize that Poppy is not herself. Usually at some point during the day he chases her around or tries to pounce on her, but he has been behaving himself.
Tomorrow morning, hubby will take Poppy to the vet and in the afternoon he will bury her under the azaleas and camellias where her other buddies are. Tomorrow Truffle will be the only cat. Tomorrow is going to suck.