I jumped (with gusto!) on the opportunity to return to my former employer and resume my former-former role. I can NOT be happier. More details later.
My weight loss has not only stalled but I lost a lot of ground, in fact exceeding my "ground zero" number. To that I say "Psh" and will provide more details later.
The immediate news is that Mr. Max isn't doing so well. I'm not convinced he'll make it through tonight. He doesn't seem to be in pain but he has almost no appetite, is very lethargic and wobbly on his feet. For the past 6 hours or so now, he's been trying to find a comfortable spot, moving from Harley's bed to the floor, to the rug, back into the bed, back to the rug... spending between 10 to 30 minutes in each spot. My poor boy. His inner/second eyelids are at permanent half-mast and his reflexes are slow. I can fuss with his whiskers and look at his teeth without him immediately recoiling or brushing my hand away.
At the same time, if he was in real distress, wouldn't he be looking for a hidden place to curl up? He seems to want to stay near the rest of the family. That thought brings me a little comfort, even if I am being anthropomorphic ... ~istic ... Whatever.
I'm feeling very adult about it right now, but I'll be a wreck when all is said and done. He's one of The Boyz. He's Harley's hapless brother. He's the cat that came along the same time I declared "no more cats". He was my Mom's cat ... and I'm realizing she passed away this month nine years ago. Yeah, I'll be a wreck, but that's the easy price to pay for our loving, purry, furry years together.
Maybe I'm wrong and he's just having a rough day. After a night's sleep he'll feel better. I hope he does have a good night's sleep because I sure won't.
My apology for the tangent this blog has taken... but I'm grateful to you, my gentle readers. Thank you. Food, pictures and snark will resume soon, I promise.
zzzzzzzzzxoxzzzzzzzzz
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