Sick kitty

I wasn't planning on blogging tonight. I thought I'd be in bed by now because I've been very tired all day. But Little Sister is still up, and I'm not sure I'll sleep very well anyway. Last night, I tossed and turned and woke up with a little prayer stuck in my head all night. It was a prayer for a cat. I know some of you probably think that's stupid. If so, go ahead and stop reading now. But if you're willing to at least consider that God, in His unfailing, intimate love for us, might care about the things that are most important to us, then it should make perfect sense.

I brought Keaton home with me one day during my student teaching. She was one of several tiny kittens in a litter that someone was just giving away, and she was covered in fleas. Hubby and I would sit & just pull them off of her, and she would just lie still and content in our hands and purr. Al was curious and licked her a lot but was generally very gentle. She has since become a member of our family, with her own stories and eccentricities . She used to roll seductively on the floor when she was in heat, before we had her "fixed". Once she shredded some of our new wedding registry towels when she used to knead her claws into them to fall asleep in the linen closet. She used to come when we would whistle for her, but only if we whistled Gershwin. She has always been able to find an open window in record time, enjoying the fresh air and peering at birds and squirrels through the screen. She even talks to birds and bugs. If you pet her when she's in the right mood, she'll purr loudly and give you a love bite. If you touch her when she's in the wrong mood, and you have a history of pulling her tail (Big Sister) she might give you a real bite. Despite that, Big Sis thinks she is the best animal in the world. She adores her and is always delighted to walk into her room and find Keaton in the window or curled up on the bed. One more thing about Keaton: she can stare anyone into giving her food.

But lately, she hasn't wanted any food. That's been the problem. A little over a month ago we found a lost mangey puppy and brought her into our home. Keaton has not adjusted well. We resolved to give it time, and after some deliberation, she seemed to be doing alright. She would mostly stay upstairs, away from the dogs, but she would venture down in the evenings and eat a little. But when Sophie (the new pup) figured out how to jump the baby gate and get upstairs, Keaton did not take it well. She got too stressed out. First she stopped coming downstairs. Then she stopped coming out of her little hiding places. And now she has stopped eating.

So, that brings me to last night. She looked awful- frail, pitiful; she even had a touch of jaundice. I woke up all night and checked on the baby, checked on the cat, whispered a prayer that she would make it until I could get her to the vet, and tried to go back to sleep. This morning I loaded up the girls and we all went to the vet. Big Sister made up a song to sing to the cat that went something like "it's ok, it's ok, it's ok you're sick. The doctor will help you" (okay, I think the words "throw up" were in the song too, but I'll leave it to your imagination). The vet did a lot of expensive lab work and told us they need to keep her on an iv for a few days to help her rehydrate and stablize. Now we wait, and, I admit it, we pray. This little animal might not be a person, but she is a member of our family. And she is precious to us all, especially Big Sister. Honestly, I'm not sure what would tear me up more: losing a cat I love so much, or having to explain that loss to my dear three-year-old. I can't bear the thought of either, so I pray. And, if you're not above it, I'd love for you to join me.