One M.F. of a week...

This week has been a bitch. I mean, a total, fucking bust. Dmitri, one of our beautiful boys, suffered the kitty equivalent of a stroke a few days ago, and we've spent hours at one veterinarian or cat emergency clinic or another, and hours more worrying about him and wondering if he's going to get through this. About a decade ago, Josef suffered a similar problem, and the only advice we got at that time was euthanasia. Times have changed and medical technology has progressed, and this time around we've been cautiously advised to "wait and see", as all of the vets we've seen claim they've known a cat or two who survived this kind of crisis. We're waiting, and going bonkers in the process. One day he looks like he's better, the next day things look totally bleak. His hind legs were paralyzed the first day or two, but now he can maneuver them enough to move about a little. The biggest problem is that he isn't eating, and cats know best about that kind of stuff. I think he knows he's going to die, so he's allowing himself to shut down. The entire episode revolves around a quality of life issue, and he's definitely not experiencing any huge amount of quality in his life as it is right now. Martin and I are totally committed to caring for him, no matter what his condition, but we're trusting him to write the script. In the meantime, were discovering waiting is one of the most difficult things to do in life.