Going Back

Willie got the last of his sutures removed yesterday.

His condition seems worse than before. He barely walks. I've had to take him to the litter box so he'd go, because I'm not sure if he's using it during the night. When he wants to move on the sofa, he practically drags himself with his forepaws because one of his back legs isn't working properly.

He seems depressed to me, too. What a big difference from when I brought him home two weeks ago. Yesterday afternoon while the hubby was at the gym, I talked to Willie as he was cradled in my arms. I started talking about our other deceased cats, asking him if he remembered them (of course he couldn't answer me) and then I cried.

Five years ago on April 1, I had to decide on putting Sumi to sleep when her cancer made living too miserable for her. It seems like deja vu. I don't want to have to make this final decision for Willie now. I really want him to live a happy life for at least another five years. He'd be around 17 years old then -- an average lifespan, I think, for cats.

So now we have an appointment on Friday morning for a re-check with Dr. K. I hope he gives us positive news.