My poor kitty has been sick, with nastiness coming out of both ends of her furry little body. We spent three hours at the animal hospital on Sunday. I tried not to get too stir crazy as we waited for the trauma cases to clear out. Cheska tolerated the barking dogs in the waiting room as well as can be expected, which means she hunkered down in her carrier and looked sullen. The vet didn't find anything obviously wrong with her and said that it's hard to diagnose just from her symptoms. She may just have eaten something nasty, or she could have a more serious disease. In the end they gave her some fluids and a shot of Pepcid (!) and sent us home. They offered to run tests, but I figured I'd go to my own vet for that. Cheska has been better today, but still under the weather. So it's back to the vet tomorrow. Poor sweet girl.
Gatwick has finally stopped hissing at her, which means the scent of the hospital must have finally worn off. He gets freaked out easily. But Cheska? She could not have cared less. She looked at him as if to say, "Oh, more hissing? Okay, whatever. I'm just gonna walk over here."