Arthur has been doing pretty well, but today seemed tough. He didn't want to eat much this morning (or yesterday morning either) and he had thrown up sometime during the day (yesterday too). He is eating ok in the evenings, but it's very touch and go, and he isn't very enthusiastic about it. He has been eating Awdrey's food when my back is turned, so either he just likes it, or he's looking for something that will not be so hurty inside. I think it was he who pooped on the floor in front of the desk this evening sometime (that's not a good sign at all). He was pretty reserved and distant tonight, prefering the chair to my lap, and didn't even follow the string with his eyes as usual when I played with Awdrey. No purring. I am quite concerned and I'm afraid that he has been in remission but now the cancer is starting to take over again. It is so hard knowing that there is nothing I can do to stop it. Because I want to stop it with all my heart.
Tonight the warning bell went off in my mind and my gut told me that it is likely that he'll go down pretty fast and much sooner than I've been hoping (he's been doing so well!) I'm not ready to lose another furry friend so soon after Penny. Especially one who has been my best friend for the last fourteen years.
I adore this cat. I don't want him to leave me like this. It's so stressful for both of us.
So here I am, sitting in bed waaaay too late on a weeknight, fretting and worrying with tears in my eyes. Hoping that when I turn off the light, I'll feel the familiar thump on the side of the bed, and I'll reach down to find him curled up there, dutifully facing the door, guarding me from whatever it is cats guard us from at night. I don't sleep well when he's not guarding. My sweet little Moustache Man.
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