Two weeks ago, going on three weeks saturday morning, Mr Willie stopped eating. He would drink water but nothing solid. I tried all sorts of delicacies but no. I watched him get weaker and weaker. I bent everyone's ear telling them about Willie. One morning he was so weak, I had to accept the fact that he would not make it.
He lives in the shop and is happy there. I contemplated bringing him up to the house (Chester and Penelope be damned) but the last time I did that he peed on a loved carpet. And truthfully, if he was sick, he would be more comfortable in surroundings that he knew well. Daily I went to the shop with sadness and trepidation. But there he was in his little bed. He had drunk some of the water.
My vet is a very practical man. He said "Well, you know he is 18 years old and that is old for a cat. What do you want to do?" I took him home. Willie didn't seem to be in pain and I would sing to him and brush him gently. He loved it. I know that because he would purr the whole time.
Then, on Sunday, bright beautiful Palm Sunday, he ate some cream cheese. That evening he had some more. He is now eating as much as he used to. He is still old and still bent but he is still here.
Hallelujah!!!
Happy Easter
Happy Passover