This is my smart cat. Mewsette. She tips the scales at just over 7 pounds and she is almost 16 years old. And, this is how she looked AFTER we visited the vets on Friday.
Turns out getting her there wasn’t too difficult. There are three doors in the kitchen: two leading into the rest of the house and one at the head of the stairs leading down to the basement. Closed all three doors while Breakfast is Being Served and all that remained was for my son to pop her into the cat carrier.
Not the struggle I thought it might be. Sometimes, we get lucky that way.
She got a steroid shot to help calm her allergies; we came home with a bottle of ear drops for the yucky out-of-control ear infections she has.
That was my fault for not getting her to the vets earlier. I feel horrible about this.
We came home with some ear drops; she got a steroid shot to help with her allergies and she seems to be more content; more herself. She spent the rest of Friday sleeping in the kitchen with my senior whippet.
Two elderly divas. Although you can’t tell by looking at either of them. Josephine, my whippet, is pretty darn limber and Mewsette can still jump up to the top of the kitchen cabinet where she’s always liked to sleep.
They have Things on Their Agendas. Things that revolve around food and sleeping.
Josephine’s always up for a romp while Mewsette, an inside cat, wouldn’t be caught dead “on a romp.” Not her style.
She’s content to wrap her elegant tail tightly around her body as she settles in for a nap. And, that seems to be enough. For now. [gplus count=”true” size=”Medium” ]