My sixteen-year-old cat, Smitty, has been sicker than I’ve ever seen her today. She hasn’t eaten, has barely drunk anything, hasn’t visited her catbox, and hasn’t been the sometimes maddening, constantly-underfoot cat that she’s always been. Windows were open and sunbeams were in ample supply but neither was enough to tempt her from her sleep at the foot of Hallie’s bed today.
Her lively, feisty self has disappeared with astonishing speed, almost overnight. I think this is it. I’ll frankly be surprised if she is with us in the morning.
Update: She’s still here this morning.
Did you think about an emergency vet? I couldn’t stand to watch my cat lay in waiting for death without trying to do something to help.
I actually did call the emergency vet. He advised to keep her comfortable until I can bring her in this morning, so that’s what I’m doing.