Saturday

The cat is Amish, and I’m being shunned.

Seriously, every time I go into the same room as Max, he turns his back on me. Apparently I am to blame for the appearance of that little black monster Buddah, the sneezing, the coughing, the choking on phlegm, the diarrhea, the lack of appetite, the heartbreak of psoriasis, and the rotation of the earth on its axis.

My little PsychoKitty hates me.

He’ll get over it, I’m sure. He’s now drinking, but he still won’t eat. He wants to eat; we open a can and he comes to see what it is. We put his favorites in front of him and he sniffs as if he wants it all, but then gets this “I just can’t” look on his face.

We’ve tried everything: baby food, tuna water, canned chicken and the water from that, forbidden kitten chow, his favorite overwhelmingly stinky canned food, and we pulled out the Big Guns—Cocktail Shrimp.

He wants it, but he can’t make himself eat.

So we called the vet again and we’re waiting for call back. Since he was drinking yesterday afternoon the doc thought his appetite might also kick in, but it hasn’t. And since they’re closed at 1 p.m. today and not open again until Monday, we need to do something… he hasn’t eaten since Wednesday.

To top it all off, we’ve been keeping Max and Buddah separate until Max is feeling better; it didn’t seem like a good idea to make him deal with a 2 pound hyperactive ball of fur that wants to ride him through the house. So once he feels better, he has to get used to that all over again.

This poor cat is going to need therapy.

edit to add a couple hours later:

Vet got back to us, saw him, sent us home with an appetite stimulant, and 20 minutes later he scarfed down a few bites of tuna the Spouse Thingy offered him. We'll wait a little while and offer him part of a can of food...but he ate. So, yay!

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