I just left Millie at the animal hospital for tests and IV fluids. I have to leave her overnight so they can hydrate her and wait for the blood test results.
Outwardly, she shows little sign of being ill. Her temperature is normal, and the doctor examined her and listened to her heart. Sounds good. Teeth are fine, ears look good.
But vomiting seven or eight times in a 24-hour period is obviously not good. And dehydration is even worse. So I left my Millie at the animal hospital, and asked God to look after her. She is, after all, one of His creatures. And she is so very special.
I hate not having control. I hate that I can't make her feel better. I hate that I can't stop my imagination from thinking the worst. I hate that stopping the tears was impossible at the vet's office, and I thank those kind people for understanding. This cat is my world.
If all goes well, I'll bring her home tomorrow, hydrated and hopefully on the mend. I want so very badly for her to be okay.
In the meantime, I have a three-hour rehearsal for Chorale. I'll muddle through it somehow. I'm trying to get all the tears out of my system now, so I don't make an ass of myself in front of the entire Chorale and the Symphony.