Sosta is sick.

We had some urination problems since the move and took her to the vet. They did a mini blood panel and didn’t find anything wrong. The doctor also examined a little lump—barely bigger than her Avid chip—-she’s had for years. There were no problems. We moved the litter box in hopes of re-training her.

Monday, I found a large lump on her belly, so I took her in first thing Tuesday morning and she saw a different vet. The lump could be a cyst, but it could also be mammary cancer. We ordered a full blood panel in preparation for surgery, but the results were not good. Liver function that was fine just a couple of weeks ago is awful. She can’t have anesthesia without a healthy liver, so today, she’s at the clinic again for an ultrasound of her heart and abdomen to look for causes.

I had a huge event last night for AYW, so I was forced to put my emotions on hold for about a day. End result: crying myself to sleep and spending most of today in a teary state as well. All the 9/11 tributes and “wear red” campaigning is not helping. I’m having to ignore what I am sure are some great blog posts from some great writers because I can’t read about that tragedy when I’m already on edge.

I’ll learn more when I pick her up at 5pm today. E and I have talked about the “what if” scenarios. We are neither one prepared for—but both expect—-very bad news. I hope we are wrong. I hope that today’s ultrasound finds some little/easy fix that won’t be traumatic for her. …and if we are right, we’ll do our best to keep her comfortable.

As many of you know, she’s the best cat in the world. Even when vets are poking her with needles and violating her for a temperature reading, she’s calm and sweet and gentle. She handles stress better than just about any being I’ve ever witnessed. I know that if the tables were turned, she’d treat me famously during what might be my last moments with her. I hope I can be strong for her like she would for me; I certainly don’t feel strong.