Laying in bed this morning, knowing there was a definite problem with Rory, I started to think over the past six or so months, looking for some common denominator as to what's going on with the cats.
I can't find one.
DaNiece started it back in June. We almost lost her. Over the course of the weeks, she ended up on phenobarbital for the rest of her life. As well as those thyroid meds she'd been taking.
Then Sagwa got pretty sick. He lost a lot of weight. I was able to pull him out of it with hand feeding and fluids.
Potter had kidney disease. His kidneys were toast, beyond help.
Skip most likely had cancer. The snotty nose on Wednesday. The expanding head the following Monday. The blindness that Thursday. Death the following Monday. Fast growing tumor would be my guess. It all fits.
Rocky with his crypto and daily meds, which he hates to take.
Opie, who was diagnosed with minor COPD this summer.
Then Ronnie. Who's almost back to normal, except a lot more affectionate. He's putting on weight, eating and drinking.
Mystie, who spent most of her time close to the house or in the house, had a tumor by her liver. Who knows how long it was growing before it got so bad that we finally realized there was a serious problem and had to say goodbye.
And now, Rory.
I'm just not seeing a common thread.
Brian and I had blood work on Wednesday. My results were what I expected. His were not. Not getting into it, but he's going to need more tests to rule stuff out.
And then waking up each morning with a cloud over the country, wondering how much deeper Cheetohead has dug the hole with his ignorance since the day before...and will we even be around next year?
I thought I was weary...