The Lesser of Two Weevils: being the writings of two nice ladies

Not really feeling the Inaugural spirit today.

Early this morning, we had to take our wee Sophy to the emergency vet. She hasn't been eating all that well. We've been convinced that it was just because her giant sibling nudges her out of the way. So we've been employing various strategies of feeding her separately, feeding her supplemental food, etc. to try to put some meat on her bones. She was the runt of the litter and has always been small.

Over the weekend she started to seem a bit listless. She was eating and, up to Sunday night, playing with the Cat Dancer. But she just seemed off. Then I noticed that the inside of her ears had a yellowish cast. We called the vet on Monday and made an appointment for today.

K stayed up with her last night to make sure she was okay and try to coax her to eat and drink a little. I woke up at about 2 a.m. and went out to check on them. Sophy was on K's lap, but she looked like she wanted to get down. I picked her up and put her on the floor. And she couldn't move. Her back legs were kind of kicking feebly, but she wasn't able to get up.

We rushed over to the emergency vet. She's in liver failure. They hydrated her and did an initial ultrasound and found fluid in the abdominal cavity. This is really not good. When the specialist comes in this morning, they're going to do a full abdominal ultrasound and bloodwork to find out what's going on and whether they can save her.

They can't tell, at this point what caused the liver failure. It could be any number of things.

Our poor little kitten. She's so small and she looked so sad.

And I feel like this is my fault. Any cat I've had to do with was the kind who would fall on its food and mooch around looking for handouts. Ella and Ziva both tend to be overweight. When I asked the cat rescue lady about Sophy being the opposite, she said that I shouldn't worry. Different cats have different metabolisms and she would get enough to eat. I was worried that I was transferring my own food issues onto wee Sophy, so I just let this go longer than I should have. There's no saying that if we'd brought her in earlier this could be fixed, but it wouldn't have been a gigantic crisis.

K feels even worse than I do because Sophy is "her" cat.

We just didn't know.

I'm at work now, trying to accomplish something before my 10:00 a.m. meeting. K's waiting to hear from the vet.

M.