Robb has had to come to terms with the fact that not ever fiber of my heart is devoted to loving him. The rival for his affections is my sixteen year old kitty, Niobe. Niobe was a sorry bag of bones when she found us, and surprised everyone by giving birth on our couch a week after a vet assured me that she was too scrawny to be pregnant. Niobe may not have a lot going on in the brains department, and her son is a terror, but I love her more than I have loved any four legged creature.
And right now, Niobe is having health problems. Her kidneys are out of whack, and until we get those better under control, we cannot have her dental problems attended to. Dental work for cats involves general anesthesia, which is risky even for young healthy cats. We've got to get things sorted out, because Niobe has at least one rotten stinky tooth in her mouth, and also has an abscessed gum.
We have tried to modify Niobe's diet, but she's such a lunatic that predicting what she will and won't eat from day to day is nearly impossible. (For the record, I don't think she is spoiled, I believe that with the state of her mouth and kidneys, eating is not a very happy experience.)
Tomorrow, Robb is going to our vet's office to learn how to administer subcutaneous fluids for Miss Niobe. Robb is my hero for doing all this. I have an absolute horror of needles. And carrying a cat up and down the stairs certainly isn't easy for Robb.
Last week, we had an appointment for dental work scheduled, and Niobe's kidney health was too poor to proceed, so rather than leaving her in a cage all day, Robb retrieved her from the vet. He lost his grip on her carrier as he was making his way up the stairs, and bounced her down half a flight of stairs.
But luckily, Niobe also has no short term memory, and treats us like the two nicest people in the entire world. Even if we throw her down the stairs and stick flowers on her head.