Our cat Banjo hasn't been feeling well lately. The vet listed a few scenarios that could explain his symptoms, and so far tests have ruled out everyone of them except for an extreme shift in food preference and cancer. And Banjo's never been terribly finicky. It's a very strange experience. Banjo has been healthy his entire life. I honestly can't remember a time in the last 14 years when he's been even slightly ill. I was beginning to imagine that he was either the feline equivalent of a Highlander, or just too dim to figure out how to get sick (Banjo's agile and friendly...but he's not a triple threat.)
So to suddenly seem him sleeping all the time, not eating, and slinking around with his head low, breaks my heart. In the process though, I'm reminded about just how important he, and DB, and now Midnight (Kate's cat) are to me. I figure I've known Banjo and DB longer than most of the people in my life. In a very real sense, they are two of my oldest friends. And my only non-english speaking friends.
So yeah. I love our cats. It's an obvious positive, I'll admit. But it's not until you're faced with potential loss that you realize fully what it is you have.
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