Sunday, May 31, 2009

The Cat Flew... I Mean Flu

My cat caught my horrible bug from me. Perhaps I do have the swine flu. If it can pass from pig to person, perhaps it can pass from person to pussycat. (Okay, I just had to give into the consonance. Too much of a temptation.)

But I kid you not. Yesterday my poor old cat slept all day, and if you think that's normal for a cat, let me tell you, it isn't. And he didn't meow. And when he walked--briefly--he looked like it was the hardest thing in the world for him to do, like his two back legs were twisted backwards, while his head was almost tucked between his legs. 

But his not meowing was the hardest part. He always meows to me. I ask him a question like, "How are you this morning?"

He answers, "Meow."

I ask, "Would you like to play outside with the kids?"

He answers, "Meow."

I ask, "Would you like colder water in the bathtub?" (He gets running water from the tub--likes it best that way.)

He answers, "Meow."

Only this time, he didn't answer. He didn't want to whine when I asked him how he was this morning, so he said nothing.

He didn't want to play outside with the kids. The sun was too bright, and he had a headache.

And he didn't need colder water in the bathtub. He felt too sick even to climb into the bathtub to get it (I lifted him in a few times so he could drink). I broke down finally and put a bowl of water on the floor with his food, and he broke down and drank from it for the first time in about 10 years.

And he didn't purr. Not all day. Not when I stroked him, not when I scratched right under his chin, not when I held him like a baby. 

I actually wondered whether he'd make it through the night. I'm sure he wondered the same thing (I wondered it about myself on Wednesday).

And then, at five this morning, he came to me, sat next to me, and began to purr. And he meowed, a childish sort of happy meow, like he was excited. He felt better, a lot better, and since he'd been expecting death, feeling better was quite a relief for both of us. 

Now he's acting normal. He's been walking around (when he's not napping--after all, he is a cat) but acting like he's okay, like he's happy.

If only I could recover so quickly.


  1. Oh, I'm glad he's OK.

    I know it's miserable when I'm sick, but I'm driven mad with worry when someone else is ill, particularly a child or a pet. When they can't tell me about it, it's much worse.

    I'm so glad he's better.

  2. I am SO glad this one had a happy ending...I was worrying!