Our cat Dusty is sixteen years old and is beginning to show all sixteen years. He’s way too skinny, he doesn’t seem very interested in anything I give him to eat, his coat is scruffy, and he sort of wobbles when he walks. We’re just afraid he’s not going to make it much longer. And oh, will we ever be sad when he goes. We’ve talked about what we’ll do when that time comes and decided we’ll just have to get another cat to keep Squeakie company. Today I went to PetSmart to get some vitamins and cartons of cat milk. I gave him some of the milk and he gobbled it up. Maybe we can hang onto him for a while. I sure hope so. He’s my best pal in the whole world.
Health news. I went to see my nephrologist yesterday, Dr. Anup Rai. I told Rosalie that she’s maybe the most voluptuously beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, sort of a Halle Berry beauty. She’s the one who treated me when I was in the hospital a few months ago and found that I had a blockage in blood flow to my left kidney, which probably contributed to my high blood pressure. Now I’m on a new prescription, which has stabilized my bp, but it seems that I have a 90% blockage to my kidney and I’ll have to have a stent implant. Man, if it isn’t one thing it’s another. She asked me if I had a cardiologist and I told her I had a bunch of -ologists but not a cardio-. Let’s see, I have a nephrologist, a dermatologist, a hematologist, a radiologist, a podiatrist, and soon a cardiologist, who will set up a date for the surgery. That’s just too many obligations to one doctor or another. I’m beginning to feel just like Dusty.
What to make of this odd plant someone gave us. It's the healthiest beast I've ever seen, and it worries me that some night it may creep indoors and into our bedroom to do us harm. What do you think?