Sick old girl

Dolly's been listless, not herself. I notice a minute spec of blood on the floor. In her litterbox, more. The vet is kind but says old girls of 20 like our Dolly quite often suffer from renal failure. The tissues gets thin. They're more susceptible to problems. She tells me Dolly's lost 1.5lbs since her last visit. I don't need to be told. You can easily see how thin she is, feel how thin she is. Doc prescribes an antibiotic: "If it gets better, come back for another prescription."

We give it a go. It's Hell. Dolly's feels attacked as we corner her, cries weakly as we gently pry open her mouth and drop in the meds. We notice it reduces her appetite. We notice it illiminates her appetite. We notice it makes her withdraw from us. No petting. No lapsitting. Not even the too early wake-up calls. When I hold her, it's like holding a skeleton wrapped in fur. We watch her fade away in front of our eyes. She is dying.

Soon the bottle is empty. We pick up another prescription but decide to give her a day or two off. Almost immediately, Dolly's appetite is back and with a vengeance. No more blood in her urine. Things are improving. But the new bottle is yet to be administered.