Sad looking dogs, a love bird that was quiet and still, and a lot of nervous and bloodshot eyes on the humans. Sigh. Spent 3 hours waiting in the packed emergency room at Dove Lewis tonight with sweet, sick Picasso. Came home to find her hiding in the corner, not moving, and not coming when I called her. Knew something was wrong. She didn't recognize me. I'm really scared, and sad. She's staying the night and getting blood work and x-rays: something is wrong with her stomach because she hisses when you touch or squeeze it.
Picasso came to live with me right out of college when I was still living in Chico. She was the last of a litter of kitties at the pound, and she talked to me from the very beginning. Yes, she's a talker. I talk, she talks back. She talks, I say, "You don't say?" We have great conversations. She works with me in the garden, and goes everywhere I go around the house. At night, she demands her own pillow. She's my buddy, and has been for 13 years.
She even blogs with me.
I hope she's going to be okay.
4 comments:
wishing you and picasso prayers.
Poor lil thing....The do good work there at Dove Lewis, if Picasso can be fixed, they are the ones to do it.
~K!
Poor Picasso. I hope she'll be OK.
That waiting room at Dove Lewis is an intense place. I sat there for a few hours once when Rusty was having trouble breathing. I couldn't concentrate on anything except worry.
Sending positive vibes your way and Picasso's way.
Oh, I'm so sorry about your kitty. I too have spent hours at Dove Lewis (I was enormously pregnant and having contractions, luckily my hospital was Good Sam,)
They'll do the best that they can for her; she's in good hands.
Lots of good energy coming thru the internet...
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