There's something wrong with Dinah. On Thursday morning she didn't come downstairs with me when I got up, which I thought was strange, but didn't really think anything about it. I went ahead and put food down for her, but when Bob got home in the afternoon, he said it was still there. She didn't eat anything that evening, either, or Friday, and we started to get worried. She's started lying in the chair in the bedroom, which she doesn't normally do, rather than sleeping in bed with us, or she sleeps in the basement.
Yesterday, Saturday, when I got up I carried her downstairs, but she wouldn't eat, although she drank some water. She's lost weight, and she's unsteady on her feet. I had to go out yesterday to get my hair cut, and while I was out I bought some little cans of special, "gourmet" cat food to try to tempt her with (this is all sounding horribly familiar).
I got her to eat a little cream cheese off my finger last night, and Bob suggested we get some lunchmeat-type meat and see if that sounded good to her, so we went to the grocery store at 9:00 last night and bought sliced turkey. She wouldn't eat it, but she ate a little more cream cheese, and then she went down to the basement. I didn't sleep very well, I was worried about her. This morning I woke up and she was standing in the bedroom, heading for the bathroom to get a drink of water, I think.
I went in there with her, and waited while she drank, then carried her downstairs and gave her some catfood. It was a minced chicken and tuna dish with quite a bit of liquid, and she licked off all the juice, drank some water, and headed back for the basement. I went down and slept with her for a couple of hours until Bob got up to go to work. He got her to eat a little more, then when she headed for the basement again, I picked her up and sat her on my lap and petted her until she laid down, then sat there with her for about two hours until I had to get up to go to the bathroom. I tried to get her to stay in the chair while I went to the bathroom, put some laundry in, and got something to eat, but she wouldn't. She went upstairs to the chair in the bedroom.
The blanket from the bed in the basement had gotten wet--we had water in the basement this week, which is another story--and I had washed and dried it. I took it out of the dryer and rushed upstairs and put it on the bed, then picked her up and put her on it, thinking she would enjoy the warmth. She didn't seem to care much one way or the other, but she finally laid down. She's normally a talker, but she'll hardly say anything now, except a little pitiful cry when I talk to her.
I'll call the vet in the morning and see if I can bring her in. I suppose it could be something fixable, but we just can't spend a fortune on her like we did with Pyewacket, nor do we want to. Bob has said all along that we let Pyewacket linger too long, and he doesn't want to do that with Dinah. Not that I'm sure she's dying, but man, like I said, this all seems so familiar.