Our lovely Bada is back in the hospital, admitted as an emergency yesterday afternoon. I can’t sleep, which is why I’m writing it up now.
For the past few days, Pete kept saying “she’s getting better” and I knew it was wishful thinking.
She’d still been going out, and I didn’t want to stop her. We had to leave the house for a couple of hours yesterday; when we got home, there was no sign of her – I tried not to panic, but failed. About 3 p.m. she came in, and was in a *dreadful* state; I’ve never seen a cat so ill. She could barely walk, and just collapsed on the bed, so we headed straight for Zetland. They told us it was touch and go; when they phoned last night, she has signs of kidney failure, severe dehydration, multiple infections. She’s in an oxygen tank, poor little kit.
They did say that she was more comfortable, and sleeping “curled up”, but they didn’t know whether they might need to phone us during the night “in case decisions need to be made”. It’s almost 5 a.m. and no phone call, so I’m going to assume that she’s made it thus far, and wait for them to ring later this morning.
I hate this waiting.
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