Jan. 21st, 2012

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My poor old crooked cat** has been failing.  He's turned into a walking skeleton and eating less and less.  I watched him the other night, weebling and wobbling and almost falling over, sniffing at his food and water and partaking of neither, and told myself I would take him in the next day and, well, you know.  So the next morning I get up and watch him some more as he drinks a little and all of a sudden it pops in my mind that I might have some old cans of wet food in the pantry (he's always only eaten dry food, except for when they had to pull most of his teeth a few years back).  I decided to give him a last meal.  To my surprise, he went CRAZY and lapped up that food like he hadn't eaten in a week -- which is probably about right.  The last few days, he's been getting a can in the morning and at night, and he's actually chippered up a bit.  He still looks awful, and he is almost 17, so I doubt it buys him much time.  Poor crooked cat.

**Crooked Cat earned his name several years ago when he had a stroke which left him paralyzed for a few days and when he could walk again, it was with a decided bend to his hindquarters and a significant limp.


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July 2012

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