This is charlie. She's the last of the family that came into the house all those years ago: the dog, and the two cats. She was rescued just shy of christmas, covered in fleas, full of worms, and her little paws freezing to the ground.
She's not eating right now, and she's dehydrated, and according to the vet: she's got air in her stomach? We're giving her some pills which are supposed to ease pain and nausea. And of course, we're waiting on the blood test, which should come in on thursday. Should, the last one we had done was like two days late.
My mother thinks that if we can get her to eat some, get her wanting to eat, she can pull through this.
I think we've never had a cat break 13 years old. I think charlie is at the end of her road, and because we were watching her like a hawk because we recently adopted whiskey: we caught her decline quicker than we did for maggie and laika.
Even when you see it coming, even when it's broadcast to you: it never gets easier. I'm going to be worried sick about this sick little kitty, and then I won't HAVE to be worried about her anymore, and I'm going to feel even worse.