Max moves about the house like an old man with hemorroids; each step is practically taken in slow motion, and when he gets where he’s going, he’s exhausted. Then he sits very carefully and deliberately, setting his butt on the floor as if it were battered and bruised. Then he lays down with a heavy, phlegm filled sigh. He dozes, but doesn’t seem rested or even comfortable.
He’s stressed out, pissed off, and still feels like crap. While he ate the proffered tuna yesterday following his dose of appetite stimulant, he didn’t want anything after that. We tried the meds again, but just giving it to him caused him so much stress that he threw up (all over my slacks, no less…and the pill did not stay down) and was even further resolved that no food was passing his tired little lips.
We tried again later; the pill stayed down but it didn’t work. So around 9 o’clock last night, we tormented and tortured him again (he does seem to feel like he’s being tortured), this time shoving NutriCal Gross And Disgusting Smelling Paste into his mouth.
This stuff, BTW, seems to stain fur. We got it on his nose and chin, which now has a nice brown tinge to it; we’re not going to tick him off even more by washing his face at this point.
Ten o’clock the thought occured to me that while we’re stressing out over the cat not eating, we had not had dinner. The Spouse Thingy decided on Bagel Bites for himself, and I figured I’d deal with the can of chicken I’d opened the previous day in an attempt to get Max to at least drink the water from it.
I plopped the contents into a bowl and started to mush it up with a fork, when I felt a little body run up against my leg. Max looked up hopefully…well hell, yes he could have some. I hadn’t put anything in it yet, so I dropped a small piece onto the floor in front of him. He sniffed. And sniffed. And sniffed some more. Then he started nibbling, carefully, as if he wasn’t sure this was the best idea he’d ever had. Before he could finish it, I put more in front of him, and he slowly ate it.
Lest he disturb the nibbling kitty, I quietly (yes, let’s be quiet, we don’t want to upset the cat!) told the Spouse Thingy to stay out of the kitchen until he was done. And good man that he is, the Spouse Thingy agreed. At that moment there was nothing more important than getting some food into Max.
I finally just sat on the floor, bowl in hand, and fed him bite by tiny bite, until he let me know he was done. All in all I think he got a good tablespoon’s worth in him. It was enough that we were satisfied that between the NutriCal paste, tuna, and chicken, he’d had enough calories for the day.
This morning I was asleep when the Spouse Thingy fed him; he reported later that Max initially only sniffed his food and walked away, but after having a blob of the paste shoved into his mouth he went back into the kitchen and nibbled at it. A couple hours later I opened another can of chicken, and while he didn’t eat any, he was very interested and licked at it.
Baby steps. I can live with baby steps for right now, as long as he gets something in him.
And yes, I’m a one-subject wonder these days, but right now our lives are wrapped around getting this cat to feel better. Until he does, I suspect I won’t have a whole hell of a lot else on my mind.
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