Author: Stacy Horn

While I tried to fatten up Buddy I’ve probably given Finney diabetes. Look at the size of this belly!

Buddy’s got an appointment with the oncologist at 9am. I’m scared. And now that I’m feeling a little better about Buddy I’m scared about what this is going to cost!

Although I forgot to feed the birds yesterday, I was that distracted. I haven’t missed a day regardless of rain or blizzards.

I had a ray of light on Friday. My agent thinks my book proposal is ready to go out. She showed it to another agent at her agency to get a second opinion and that agent thinks it’s ready to go out. I think it’s my best writing yet, and about a subject very near and dear to my heart: singing and the Grace Church Choral Society. Please please please let me get to write this book. I think it’s the book that will bring together everything that I do best.

I took this shot minutes ago up on the roof. Usually when I take a picture of the Empire State Building I zoom in on it. This gives a more accurate representation of how far away it is.

Here is Buddy, nudging me to feed him. The vet said to go ahead and let him eat babyfood to his heart’s content. More calories. I want to wait a few minutes and give the Pepcid a chance to kick in.

He’s curled up on my lap now, purring. It’s like nothing is wrong. The universe is giving us a little time off from heart ache, I guess. Thank you, Universe.

I know I should talk about something else besides Buddy.

How do you prevent or fix that glow-y eyes thing, by the way, does anyone know?

Things are improving at Casa Crazy Cat Lady. A few hours after fluids and a Pepcid (and about a thousand other drugs) Buddy drank water on his own. A few hours after that he ate babyfood. He hasn’t voluntarily done that in three days, so there was much rejoicing over here. “Who’s the greatest eating cat in the whole wide world? You are!”

When he was done he was curling up and begging for pets and I spent a few hours with him back in the bedroom, where he insisted we be. I watched tv on the inferior tv (the good tv is in the livingoom) and he was purring, purring, purring.

I almost don’t want to give him his tramadol, the pain killer, because he will be out of it, and he seems so much better. But cats tend to hide discomfort, and he just had abdominal surgery on Wednesday and he does have lymphoma, so he must be uncomfortable.

Here he is right now, taking his post breakfast nap on the couch, on the comforter I spread out for him. I have to go out and run errands so I’ll take pictures of something other than my sick cat.

The biopsy said “small cell,” or low grade, which I just read has a better prognosis than the large cell or high grade. So there’s that.