What a roller coaster – yesterday morning the vet phoned and said she was “feistier” and taking her food through a tube.
We allowed ourselves, at last, to begin to feel optomistic, and arranged to go and see her at 6.30, when we were confronted with a small cat on the edge of death. She wasn’t accepting her food through the tube at all, was vomiting, wasn’t drinking, had an ulcerated tongue, and was generally as ill as she possibly could be. The vet was clearly surprised that she had a) slipped back, and b) slipped back so fast.
We took the only decision we could – we let her go. And we will miss her joy and her nibblous tail more than I can say.
Good hunting, Liessa …