For a while I was worried he might go the way of Gracie Anne and live under the loveseat, but yesterday afternoon, when I lowered myself to the floor, gently putting my knees (and weight) on the cold, hard tile floor so I could put my hand under the sofa, I got no feel of fluffiness. And instead of looking for him elsewhere, I got the flashlight and looked under the loveseat.
No Sammy. He was in the living room on one of the cat trees.
He was in the garage this morning when I shared the morning kibbles with them. He was on the cat trees looking for more. I know he’s trying to eat, don’t know if he’s getting much, but I’m sure his mouth, even though his teeth are still bad, is feeling a little better after last week. And he’s not so horrible about taking his meds. Even though they’re nasty. I figure I’ll try to get him in for the dental the first of next week. Not this week, next week.
And that should go a long way to make him feel better in the long run.
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