She's Home

Millie is home.

She seems exhausted, bewildered and a little cranky. She leaked a little bit of diarrhea on my couch (which, fortunately, cleaned right up easily). I wiped her bottom and there was a little bit of bloody mucous.

It sounds awful, but the antibiotic is supposed to help this. I have two meds I'm supposed to give her. She is hydrated, and when I was petting her, she softly head-butted me a couple of times. No purring yet.

I put her in her cat bed, on my bed. I think she's just overwhelmed and that she needs some time to adjust to everything. I want so badly for her ordeal to be over with, that I'm finding it hard to be patient. I will just have to see how it goes.

If she starts eating and doesn't vomit, that's a great sign. If the vomiting doesn't decrease, and/or she won't eat, then she'll need an ultrasound to see if there are any masses on her pancreas. I'm still scared of this, but hopeful that the signs of recovery she's already shown are a good sign.

I can't stop crying. My tears are tears of joy and fear. Joy because there is hope, and my girl is home where she belongs. Fear for the unknown about her illness. I'm absolutely wiped out, too, and think that a hot shower and an early trip to bed sounds like exactly what I need.

While I typed the above, Millie got off the bed and is now sitting in the doorway of the closet. Harley showed some interest in her (she smells funny from the meds and I think they cleaned her or something) and she growled, even lashing out with a paw at one point. The spunk is encouraging. Still, I suppose I have a few more days of worry ahead of me. Winter Break can't come fast enough.