Thursday, August 10, 2017

Recuperating takes time

By Hobo Hudson
I guess having been living together with cats almost all my life, I acquired their peculiarity of having nine lives. I don’t know how many I’ve used up already and for how many my last health scare counts, but it surely was a roller coaster ride.

A week after my kidney treatments at the vet’s clinic, I ended up at the clinic again. As before, I had stopped eating, and as before, without ado, Mom had hauled me to the vet. This time, I had a slight fever. The vet kept me for observation and gave me injections to bring my temperature and my nausea down.  A couple of hours later, I asked him for some of the sandwich he was eating, and not wanting to share it with me, he called my parents to pick me up and feed me at home.

I took a bite or two of the food Dad served me. This wasn’t anything like the meat I smelled earlier that was in the vet’s sandwich. On the contrary, this was the slop that came out of a can and made up my new, strict diet. I told Dad he could have the rest of my canned food. Dad wasn’t happy about it, and neither was Mom.

The next morning, I chomped down my diet food. My thinking was that it would be unfair to upset Mom and Dad even more by my refusing to eat than they already were. The food wasn’t really all that bad. In fact, my doggy brother, Wylie, and my kitty sister, Sabrina, said it was excellent while they were trying to steal it from under my nose.

But the main reason I chomped it down was because I was suddenly hungry. Dad couldn’t have slipped an appetite-boosting pill into my mouth without me knowing it, could he?

Anyway, I’m on high alert now for anything that I swallow to make sure it’s not drugged. Otherwise, I’m eating more or less regularly again, but my appetite isn’t what it used to be. I think gobbling down a big, juicy steak for a few days at dinner would bring back my passion for food in no time.


Brian said...

We are sure glad to hear you are eating again, keep it up my friend! Purrs and hugs from all of us.

Foley Monster, Pocket and River Song said...

Keep on eating Hobo. You have lots of good days ahead of you.

Unknown said...

Aww, Hobo, MacDougal here. Your illness sounds just like mine. Right after my 16th birthday, I came down with a high fever and liver enzymes that were off the charts. I also have nine lives 'cause I was scheduled to make my trip to the Rainbow Bridge since I refused to eat for six days straight. Mom said I even started smelling decayed. My appointment was scheduled for 6 pm, and at noon, I woke up, shook myself and ran to my food dish where Mom was keeping some of that awful prescription diet stuff - just in case I might eat. Well, eat I did! When the time came to see the vet at 6 pm, I walked into the clinic with my head held high and my tail wagging. You could not tell how sick I had been. The Dr. agreed and we went home. That was a week ago. I am eating even though I don't like that food. Mom makes it tastier by adding little bits of lean chicken and I eat to please Mom. So, my friend, we gotta keep eating if we want to outlive those nine lives.


About Hobo

This was Hobo Hudson, my doggy brother, a little terrier mix with black fur. He became famous after his first attempt at writing stories, which was an article published in the newsletter of our local animal shelter, the same shelter in which I ended up years later before Hobo and his parents adopted me. Hobo’s fame quickly spread as he made a name for himself as a business dog and an adventurer. To keep his memory alive, my doggy sister, my three kitty siblings and I, Wylie Hudson, are continuing his blog. Our mom is the blog’s editor.

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