...and not in a good way.
Newman is ill again, and it doesn't look particularly good for him. Tests show severe renal failure; what the tests don't show is WHY his kidneys are failing.
Anyway, we took him into the hospital yesterday; he's going to be there for three days while they pump fluids into him through an I/V, in an effort to flush out whatever is wrong with his kidneys. Best case scenario, I suppose, is that it works enough to allow him to come home where we will likely have to give him fluids via a needle for the rest of his life. Worst case scenario, of course, is that we get to bring him home just long enough to say goodbye.
It's impossible to put into words how difficult this is for us. We love all our cats of course, and they are all special in their own way, but Newman is extra so.
This would be our third horrible loss in recent memory. After losing Cleo, as close to a perfect cat as ever existed, almost four years ago (how time flies!), and Pepe, Tracey's "number one" for 17 years in February of last year, losing Newman would be devastating. He was so sick in August of last year that I'm trying to stay positive and hope that he might pull through again.
This is the perils of pet ownership obviously. They get sick and they die long before you want them to. But when you put the heartbreak up against all the love and goodness they bring into our lives while we have them, I wouldn't trade any of it for anything.
C'mon, Newman, pull through for us again.
Tuesday can't come soon enough.