Though I don’t quite know the exact day Luna was born, I know it was some time in late August of 1999. This means a cat I adopted shortly after I graduated from college is now 21 years old.
Last weekend, Jen and I went back to Washington IL to handle a bundle of wedding-related minutia. We met with Monty of Chef’s Catering, consulted with our mistress of confection to outline cake blueprints, and endured an engagement photo session. We also had a wonderful Easter brunch care of Jen’s family, which I always enjoy. We drove back into town on Tuesday and I hopped on the train home, arriving around 6:15.
Luna is back from the vet, and she’s been diagnosed with severe hypertrophic cardiomyopathy. Her left ventricle is enlarged and there was a clot forming in her left atrium.
Luna is spending the night at an animal hospital tonight.
When I got home from work on Monday, Luna didn’t greet me with her usual persistent demand to sit on my lap. In fact, she looked rather miserable sprawled on a plastic shopping bag. A couple hours later, she relocated to the corner behind the toilet. Since then, she has wandered about the apartment as though addled, refraining from eating or drinking.