In late August 1999, a long-haired calico known only as “Mama kitty” due to her numerous pregnancies gave birth to a litter of kittens in a garage on a farm somewhere in Iowa. Winter came early that year and was not kind. The kittens quickly succumbed to upper respiratory infections that eventually spread to their sinuses and eyes, sealing them shut behind a wall of crust. They all needed to see a vet, and fast.
Luna’s health doesn’t seem to be improving after her visit to the vet. If anything, she has gotten markedly worse. While the steroids did increase her appetite for the first day, she continued to weaken further over the weekend. Whatever benefit the steroids initially provided has been overwhelmed by her steadily waning constitution. It’s all she can do to walk two feet from her heated bed, so I’ve provided her with a bowl of water and a tray of food she won’t (or can’t) eat.
Two days ago, Luna’s health seems to have started rapidly declining. Jen noticed that she was standing next to the refrigerator and gently swaying for over an hour, and when I tried to pick her up, she yelled and bit me. I couldn’t tell if it was from pain or confusion, but I was being extremely delicate given that I know how old she is.
I woke up today at a time I never thought I’d see again: 8am. As someone who usually wakes up around 5:30-6am unable to return to sleep, it was definitely a welcome surprise. But more intriguing was the sleep chart from my Fitbit.