We think we might have burned at least three of Mittens' nine lives on Saturday, when he lay flat on the hardwood floor and made some unpleasant sounds. His breathing got a little shallow for a bit and Carey said soothing things, trying to coax him across the Rainbow Bridge. But after about 10 minutes he perked up and went back to his couch. That said, his appetite is waning (he's taken to eating baby food off a spoon, like a baby) and his coat is less lustrous, so I don't think he's going to be the miracle feline that beats cancer. But we're doing our best to get him to the end of April so Greta can pet him one more time.
"like a baby" made me chuckle
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