It's Christmas, and our sweet kitty Smog is feeling very unwell. Poor little guy.
Thanks to the injuries he sustained before I found him, Smog's pelvic bones are terribly distorted and compressed. And as a result of this deformity, his digestion must be perfect, or he gets into dangerous and expensive trouble. If he gets sick, things go bad fast.
Smog has been off his feed for a little over a week, now. He's barely eating, and apparently not pooping. We've been squirting him full of medications and syringes full of water. If things don't improve, we'll be giving him subcutaneous fluids, and a trip to the vet.
As you can see in this photo, Robb has the magic touch. He has a masterful technique, whereby he flips wiggly cats on their backs and cradles them in the most adorable manner. Smog stares up at Robb with his demented Baby Eyes and grins his toothy grin. When I try this, I get any angry hind foot in the face.
Please think kind thoughts to all creatures who are hurting right now. We all could use a little healing.
Update: Smoggy is feeling much, much better. Much as it pains me to write about the excretory habits of any member of our household, I'm delighted to report that Smog pooped out some terrifyingly rock-hard nuggets. Since that time, he's ambushed our gentle feral cat Sleeves, tried to sit on a tray of Christmas cookies, raced around the backyard like a crazy thing, and wolfed down quite a lot of food. He just ate more in the last 45 seconds than he has in the last four days.