Poor Jojo

Poor Jojo Kitty. On Friday night I realized that Mr. Kittywiggles wasn’t feeling well. It’s hard to tell with a cat – they’re so weird to begin with. But he was definitely exhibiting signs of distress and by the time My Honey got home from band practice, Jojo was growling and moaning.

Of course, I went on the internet and had him diagnosed immediately. Turns out I was wrong.

Doesn’t matter, I was planning on taking him to the vet anyway. I stayed up with him all night Friday. We were both miserable. Him because he was ill. Me because I couldn’t make him feel better. My poor fuzzy boy.

I called the kitty doctor three minutes after they opened the clinic and arrived eight minutes later, fuzzy son in tow.

They kept him over the weekend. I’ve had reports from the doctor that he took his treatment well, and they think he’ll be alright with no long-term damage.

But I miss him terribly. I have a feeling that the other cat in the house, Geddy, is happy to have some undisturbed sleep.

Hopefully I get him back tomorrow. At the very least, I’ll have to go to the hospital and kiss his belly.

I can’t even imagine how lonely he must be. All alone in that hospital. With no Momma to smother his belly with kisses.