29 November 2018

He's eating.

He's eating without help of an appetite stimulant.

He's lost weight and even at 12.5 pounds, picking him up feels like lifting a kitten. According to the vet, he's lost a lot of muscle mass, but he's old, it's not unexpected.

The main thing is...he's eating. He's still getting me up between 3-5 for food, which might be the new normal even though I really hope it isn't. Up until this morning I've been tired enough to get back to sleep after feeding him, but he woke me at 2:45 and it's nearly 6:00 and I'm still awake.

The downside to the return of his appetite is that he's hungry every three hours or so and until I'm positive he's over the hump, I'm not comfortable letting him go over that without feeding him, so I'm kinda stuck with being close to home. That's not really a problem right now--we can get errands done pretty quick, even if we have to go into Vacaville--but it might be an issue in a week or so when I have plans near Sacramento with friends. I'll be gone all day and the Spouse Thingy will be asleep.

So, we'll see. By then he might be fine with getting fed a full can just before I leave the house and then getting another one when the Spouse Thingy gets up.

And apparently we're back to this: sitting on the arm of my chair, staring intently, trying to convince me to set the computer aside so that my lap is available for lounging purposes.

Not this time, furball.

I have comics to read, FARK and Reddit to peruse, blogs to read, and 271 other things to do online.

And after that, there's a good chance I'm going back to bed.

With the door closed.

So I won't have kitty help.

But I'll feed you again first. I'm not a monster.