A Different Story

Well, I just had a completely different conversation with the vet. Buddy is not eating and I called to make sure there wasn’t something else I could give him to make him eat and the vet said when he opened him up he found lymph nodes the size of ping pong balls. He didn’t tell me that before. In this conversation he was definitely preparing me for the worst. Like, even if he has lymphoma it might not be treatable.

I bought tuna and butter to try to feed him, but I’m going to leave him alone for the night and try in the morning. He wouldn’t eat babyfood just now, which I had warmed in the microwave, and he just went to hide in the kitchen cabinet. I know what hiding is about. Although I will give him his antibiotic and painkiller a little later.

I used to think of myself as strong but I don’t think so anymore. I know so. This is Buddy when I got him. I didn’t have a camera in those days. I took this with a disposable camera, so it’s not a great shot.


Stacy Horn

I've written six non-fiction books, the most recent is Damnation Island: Poor, Sick, Mad, and Criminal in 19th-Century New York.

View all posts by Stacy Horn →

5 thoughts on “A Different Story

  1. I wish things were going better for you both. Right now, though, you’re doing everything you can until you know more – or until Buddy tells you more. I wish we could do more for you & your family.

  2. You are giving Buddy the best life a cat could ask for. You adore him, shelter him, feed him, entertain him, love him. He knows it. You don’t have to explain to him. I think they know.

  3. Oh gosh Stacy, I just feel sick for you. Perhaps tomorrow, after a night at home and another night of recovery, he’ll eat a little something. When they don’t eat no matter what you try, well, it just is one big sob-fest of frustration and anxiety isn’t it? Try to get a some sleep tonight, but I know that will be hard. Take care~

  4. So sorry you didn’t get better news. I know how hard this is, I’ve been through it with my own cats. I believe Buddy knows you are there for him, and that’s about all you can do at this point.

    I happened to have had a black cat named Buddy; I named him that after he became my favorite and stuck close to me, always first on my lap, last to leave. Miss him even now.

  5. It’s so so hard, this period in limbo. Buddy may not speak or understand English, but I am sure he knows that you are doing everything possible for him, and he loves you for it.

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