Petey is having an OK kind of day. His breathing is good and regular. He’s tired and weak still, but eating on his own (some dry food he only likes when he’s super nauseated, like now) and enjoying frequent snacks of Hillshire Honey Roast Turkey.
So, allow me this moment to be contemplative.
Our journey took a major detour this week, one I wasn’t sure we could recover from. But you all rallied around me and my silly little boy. And that’s what kept me fighting, even when Petey couldn’t seem to fight for himself.
Almost 400 of you came to this blog to support us on Thursday, when we were at our lowest point. Another 100 or so offered support on a message board having nothing to do with cats. And then there were the fine folks from the Feline Lymphoma email group, and the dedicated staff at Dr. Gil’s office who were all pulling for us. And praying for us.
We’ve been purred and head-bonked by cats, like Rascal and Stormie, both of whom are also battling lymphoma; and an assortment of Meezers, Bengals, tabbies, and moggies. We’ve been rallied around by the Cat Blogosphere. And prayed for by a host of humans — many of whom I know only through email lists and message boards; some of whom aren’t even “cat people.”
You’ve come from near (Petey’s Aunt Peg, who lives just around the corner) and far (the lovely Poppy Q from New Zealand), and everywhere in-between.
For the love and prayers you’ve shared, I give you a little Petey in return. This boy belongs to all of us now. I’ll think of you all as I stuff tiny bits of turkey into the most loved cat you’ve never met. That he lives to fight another day is testament to all of you.
I remain humbled and grateful.