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[personal profile] franklanguage
Yesterday I had to take my cat Stacey for an emergency vet visit: she had gone missing (not like her) for two days and I found her, silent, in the closet, looking up at me. When I had found her two days previous—wedged between shelves in the MetroShelving™ unit where I keep my clothes—she had run and hid, and I couldn't find her until yesterday.

So I took her up to Heart of Chelsea Animal Hospital right away and the vets took some bloods. What they found was grim: basically, her vital signs were not capable of sustaining life. Her red blood cell (RBC) count was extremely low and the reason I hadn't found her in two days was she had become too weak to get up and go to the litter box. She would require a blood transfusion, the treatment would ultimately cost many thousands of dollars, and it wasn't known if they would be successful.

IMG_6545 IMG_6546 IMG_6547 IMG_6549 IMG_6551 IMG_6552


They let me sit with her and she cleaned herself and purred a little. It was heartbreaking, but they sent her to slumberland and I took home an empty carrier. "Too much death," I muttered all the way home.

I'll get the ashes back in about a week; maybe I'll make a LifeGem™ out of them.
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