Simon is sick or hurt, and his inability to communicate his ailment is tearing me apart.
Parents talk about how frustrating it is, how heartbreaking it is, to not be able to help an ailing infant, and I want to tell them, "It's the same way with cats," but I never do. They wouldn't understand. They'd think I'm trivializing their child's problems, when actually I'm sympathizing with them.
Simon seemed fine Sunday morning, but by mid-afternoon something was wrong. He was sitting on the porch, on a bench, and I could tell merely from looking that he was unhappy. I went outside to pet him, and he didn't move. He didn't say a thing. I picked him up and he whimpered a sad little kitty whimper. (Or, in his case, a sad BIG kitty whimper.)
I carried him inside and put him on his chair. He stayed there all evening, never moving. When we went to console him, he growl/whimpered at us. He wouldn't take food. He wouldn't take water. He did get up at one point to use the litter box, which was something of a relief. Several years ago, he had a urinary tract infection, and I was afraid that had returned. I'm pleased to report that he pissed long and strong, just like a horse. But then he went back to his chair without stopping for a snack.
This morning, he was either better or worse, I cannot tell. He didn't whimper when I stroked him, but just sat there, a dull expression on his face.
I don't know what is the matter. He is not limping, but it almost seems like he's sore when I touch certain parts of his body. Was he bitten by something? Did he get stung? Did somebody kick him? Is he sick?
If only cats could speak.
On this day at foldedspace.org
2006 — Update on the Shop Cats (and Chicken) In which the animals at the shop are doing well.