And the Cat Came Back.

Higgins would like you all to know that he thanks you for your concern, but the reports of his imminent demise were greatly exaggerated. Higgins: "I swear I can't get good help these days. All the lazy beeyotch had to do was open a can of tuna! Now, is THAT too much to ask? Thank Bastet she was too lazy to take me to the vet!!"

The day started with evidence that the old man's kidneys were still working, and more importantly, that he was still in there bitching. I swear half a can of tuna was like a freaking trip to Lourdes. He ate it and strutted around looking all alert and happy as hell. As I type this, he is in the other room caterwauling, demanding I pop open another can of the good stuff. I will, at bedtime.

Because dammit, I want to sleep. I tried to grab a brief nap today and the sumbitch came in to wake me up: "Get your lazy ass up, woman! Go to Publix and bring me the Bumblebee!" He stood over me, glaring into my face, until I gave up on the dream of a power nap and went out to fetch the tuna.

So, we have to ask ourselves, "Is our cat dying?" Eventually, sure, but not today. And I'm really glad I didn't rush his ancient ass to the vet and spend $200 on evaluating his condition when a can of tuna did the trick.

But the cat came back the very next day. The cat came back. They thought he was a goner, But the cat came back. He just couldn't stay away. Meow.