The bubs...

When the bubs is sick, my world slows down a little.  And by 'a little' I mean that heart wrenching-what-would-life-be-like-without-him pace that makes me cry a lot and sleep less.

Brady had been out of sorts for a day or two, and when I saw him straining in the litter box alarm bells went off in my head.  The next day things were worse.  Realizing we needed to take him in at 5:30PM when both of our affiliated cat clinics are closed at 6PM (not to mention the inability to locate our cat carriers) was more than a little stressful.  Calling them to list the symptoms and having them increase the urgency didn't help the matter.


Turns out urinary tract infections are a big deal in male cats.  But he's in good hands and the kitty hospital has visiting hours, so I went and snuggled him as best I could around his coned head and messy backside.  I encouraged him as he tried the soft food in his cage. I chattered to him the way I always do, and we stared out the window with interest at the cars whizzing by.  He pressed his head against my stomach with the quiet urgency of a feline who wants to go home.  And I left him there which, incidentally, also makes my world slow down a little.

This evening, my sweet older neighbour ladies came to find out if he was okay and whether he was home.  It did my heart good, knowing that there are plenty who would scoff at the very notion of kitty hospitals with visiting hours.  My sweet mother-in-law called to check in, and my wonderful friends assured me I'm not a horrible fur-mom because I didn't realize sooner he was seriously ill.

The bubs is sick.
So we're taking it easy over here.