Not Joan, nor me. Our big furry boy... not to give too much information, but Rufus was dealing with diarrhea. Last night and today. Yes, that's the shits. We went into Rapid this morning to get him food that would be easy on his digestion, some pumpkin puree, and a temporary litter box that uses clumping material instead of the Breeze which essentially dehydrates the poop.
That action seemed to help, and he is pretty much back to his perky self this afternoon. We'll see how the pooping action is when it happens. He is a big tough boy, so it makes my heart hurt when he isn't feeling himself. And, yes, we can see it in his eyes and his demeanor.
Joan and I share duties with Rufus: a long time ago, we agreed that I will do the front end and she will do the back end. That generally means one chore for her each day, and for me it is four meals to prepare for Rufus. Last night and this morning, he really didn't want to eat. The other end was more active, and he is a long-haired boy. All over. Joan was wearing rubber gloves, using soap and water, some selective trimming, and brushing. I got called into "holding" duty, holding up his hind legs so Joan could work on his buttal area. As you can imagine, he is not a fan of that. But, I think he could tell that we were doing this FOR him, not TO him... there was a long, low guttural meow, but no use of claws or fangs.
By late this afternoon, he was anxious for food and took time to groom himself after eating. All good signs. We sat out on the patio (it is an absolutely gorgeous day), my big boy on Joan's lap...
He's a good boy. :-)
No comments:
Post a Comment