Another morning...

Last night, I went to sleep pretty much convinced that Mica would pass in the night. He was disoriented, extremely wobbly and his breathing was raspy, like an overworked bellows. When I picked him up to carry him into the bedroom, he fought wildly against me, peeing down my side. (Which for once, I didn't mind, as he has only been using the bathroom once a day, despite the vet tech telling me that the daily IV would make him pee more often.) I got him settled down on an old bed of Petey's near his favorite spot on the floor and got myself cleaned up. Then I lay down facing him and we talked of hundreds of little furry toy mice that he used to love so much - tossing them in the air, leaping for them, and wriggling in excitement before pouncing on them. We talked about the acres of chairs and sofas, just waiting to be shredded by scratchy sharp nails. We talked about when I first picked him out of his litter at just three weeks old, a feisty little boy meowing furiously with a little tail that looked like a bristly triangle and enormous ears. I sang our little song to him, so only he could hear it. And I told him it would be okay if he needed to move on in the night. I fell asleep in tears.

Around 2:00 a.m., I woke up and was startled to see the silhouette of Mica's head against the dim light of the shades. Surely I must be dreaming, but then he sneezed and I realized that yes indeed, in the dark of the night, he had scaled my high bed (a feat that Petey requires a running start and a footstool to achieve) and was now draped against my outstretched arm. Where he remained for the rest of the night, sleeping peacefully in the crook of my arm albeit for the occasional burst of sneezes.

In the morning, he jumped down off the bed, landing awkwardly, still startled that his once powerful body doesn't respond like it used to, and made his way across the room toward the closet. I sensed he needed the litter box so leapt from the bed and carried him to the box. No sooner than I'd put his front paws in, he determined he must be fully in the box and let loose with a nice long pee. Fortunately, this time it was on easy to clean up tiles, rather than Petey's bed! He drank some water from a bowl -- but only as long as the faucet was running -- and ate a few teaspoons of food while I gave him his IV. He's been sleeping peacefully all day, despite the housekeeper vacuuming and cleaning around him in the bedroom. I woke him up a little while ago and he wolfed down a tablespoon or so of canned tuna, always a big treat. (Petey cleaned up the rest.)

The vet called with the results of his blood tests. He is not in kidney failure, which is a bit of a surprise. He is anemic and she thinks he may have something going on with his intestines but won't know without more tests and at this stage, we both agree that he doesn't need to go through that ordeal. I cried yet again and asked if it was time to bring him in and she said let's wait and see. He's having a good day today so we're going to take it a day at a time. If his days become more like his night early last night, then it will be time.

Day by day. So savor your favorite treat. Take time to enjoy some gentle strokes. And at the end of the day, stretch out on a comfy bed and dream of better times to come.