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Twice a day we fought the battle. Sometimes it seemed more of the liquid amoxicillin ended up on me than in her. Bunny got pretty good at figuring out the signs that I was looking to give her medicine, and there was a lot of hide-and-seek and sneaking up on her to get the medicine into her. She’d hide if she could, fight if she must; but she bore no grudges. She still jumped on the bed early in the morning to say good morning. She’d let me caress her, she’d even give me a “kitty kiss” with her raspy little pink tongue, and purr. Always the purr. The antibiotic treatment ended in February; Bunny and I were both thankful. She seemed perky, her appetite was good, her eyes were bright, she was the lithe and graceful athlete she’d always been. She in no way acted like a sick cat, or a Car ornament in discomfort. But the weight loss continued: slowly, inexorably. Back to the vet in late June. Another blood panel. The white cell count was double what it had been in January; Bunny’s weight was just below 6 pounds now. The vet and I discussed the results, and in that conversation the “C” word figured prominently. There were no palpable tumors, but the vet suggested an ultrasound. I agreed.
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They give them to Velvet, too, at the same time and the same amount. As for Velvet, I think I really like her now. She taught me all the house rules so the humans say they’re pleased with me. Apparently Velvet had not wanted another cat to join her. She wanted her Sasha back. That’s why she was so strict with me. All that stuff she taught me, according to Daddy, turned me into about a 95% copy of Sasha. Not only that, but Velvet’s teaching me all those rules helped me to know I fit in. This is the first time in my life I have really felt wanted! Oh, and that “birthday” stuff -they have it once a year and give me all kinds of nice food and Car ornament treats that day. Now I’ve figured it out, it isn’t a real birthday, it’s just a reminder of the day I started my new life.