So last night I was feeding Bea and in the middle of it she puked a river. Like a literal-ass river. Projectile. Slimy and watery with tiny chunks of food and half of a hairball. I was mortified. And nauseated. Afterward, after I cleaned everything with Lysol and hot water and bleach, including Bea, I noticed that her nose was all congested and her eyes were streaming water and a whole miasma of other non-appetite conducive symptoms. So I figured she had something stuck up a nostril. I tried helping her sneeze it out, but well... let's just say, my bag of tricks was all together unproductive. It was a long night. We took her to the vet today because she's still snuffly and listless and her nose and ears were all hot and dry. I swear to god she sounded just like a little snuffed up baby. It nearly killed my soul. I cried for a while on account of I'm as attached to that cat as I am anything else on this earth and she's been right there with me for 15 years and I really don't know what I'll be if I'm not Bea's person. It'd be like having the key to my Mama's house taken away from me, or even cutting the Southern out of me. Things just ain't gonna jive no more. I'll be a wandering soul in this world. But for now that's not gonna happen. Cause Bea's not checking out on us just yet. The vet gave her a lot of fluid and said her throat is scratchy and her left nostril is clogged and sent us home with Clavamox. She perked up once we got home. Goddess bless crazy animal doctors who wield syringes full of feline Gatorade. I fed her a goodly amount of wet food and I even gave her some Greek yogurt... cause why the hell not.
Sometimes there's not enough alcohol in the world. Or at least within my reach.