nonionay | (no subject)

My dad just came in the room and said, "we've got a dead cat." I assumed he meant one of my aunt's 16-year-old cats. I'd watched her this morning give one of them an IV drip for several minutes, something she has to do twice a week to supplement the cats faulty kidneys. The cat puts up with it just fine, though she sometimes ends up with great blobs of fluid sloshing around in her paws for a while.

What Dad actually meant was that Yum Yum, the last cat I grew up with, died during our time down here. Yum Yum was probably fifteen years old. The petsitter found her. My dad had Skype hooked up so that he could watch the cats at home. This meant he spent much of Christmas Day shouting, "Hi, Tizzy!" at a cat-shaped blur on his computer screen. Occasionally, the cat-shaped blur did indeed turn her head.
So now I know why we only saw Tizzy. :-(

(This also means there will be some small drama when we get home and dad has to get Yummy out of the freezer and take her to the vet without letting Mom know there was a dead cat in the fridge and she throws everything out.)