Pictures of Bones from 2004

This is what we do to poor Bones now

He's also lost some motor skill in the back legs, which makes me suspect kidney disease. Blood test results come in tomorrow.

He's walking like a Charlie Chaplin drunk.

I've had to set up all the furniture in the room so that he can get to his usual spots, in stages--cause otherwise he still tries jumping. I never (usual lazy me) put away my suitcases from cat sitting, and one's bigger than the other, so they're perfectly stacked in stepping formation on one side of the room. His blanky is on there and he sleeps there.

Then there's a file box by the bed, to step up into bed. Then there's my side table (a low desk) for him to walk across to the office chair he likes. The office chair is wedged in by laundry baskets so the wheels won't roll. And then I had to slide a small drawer into the gap between the chair and the desk, so he won't try jumping onto the desk where he likes to lay. It's like furniture rice paddies.


I was half an hour late for work because I gave Sherry an appetite stimulant and hoped he'd eat before I left. But he didn't, and I put off the syringe feeding too late. It wasn't as bad as I thought it'd be. Probably because he's so weak he can't fight very well, so he appears more acquiescent than he is. But he swallows most of it. Apparently many cats with kidney failure die from starvation rather than the disease, and some people syringe feed their cat four times a day for months.

I almost started crying once at work. I know once I start it'll be Ugly Cry and Alarming to the Staff, so I'm trying not to think about poor skinny little drunken Bones while I'm working. And Fernando and I are no comfort to each other, because we deal with such things so differently.