Last week, Thisbe, the younger more sensitive cat celebrated in a low-key way, (no cats, no people, no fuss) her 6th birthday. Since she was spayed, Thisbe has packed on the pounds. She is a 16 lb. bundle of fur and neuroses, a "fraidy cat," or "scaredy cat" if you will. Doesn't like strangers. Zook! Up the stairs and under the bed or down the stairs and into her hidey hole in the furnace room. She likes to look out of the window, but she never ventures outside further than the front porch.
We're had a hot summer and Thisbe has been drinking a lot of water. Too much water, so yesterday we hauled out the dreaded cat carrier and took her to the vet, a trauma for both animal companian and owner. She was incredibly good, didn't growl or howl and scratch or claw or try to hide in the examing room. But he eyes were big and scared and I knew just how she felt.
The vet took some blood and we are waiting for news. If she has diabetes, we'll have to give her insulin twice a day. She doesn't seem like the kind of cat who will be cooperative and patient, not the kind of cat who will suck it up, if you will, but the kind of cat who will be permanently traumatized by shots and blood tests and trips to the vet. She is a sweet animal and deserves better.