She lives

This is a kitty update...a week ago our cat, Lucy, met me in the hallway as I was waking up. I thought it odd, because it had been weeks since she had voluntarily done anything. In her effort to die she had deemed a corner under Everett's bed as the best place to leave this world. She was unwilling to move (unless I hauled her out by the scruff of her neck to mercilessly cram a syringe down her throat), so it was unusual for her to be out and about. I carried her downstairs with me and plopped some food infront of her, the whole time pleading with her to just "stinkin' eat it so I can stop feeding you by hand." And, miracle of miracles, she ate the food! I didn't start jumping up and down right away, because eating on her own doesn't mean she's completely out of the woods. So I waited for a few days before sharing my jubilation with the children. Now, she has resumed all of her bygone activities--including waking me up in the wee hours of the morning and trying to sneak outside when a child is slow with shutting the door. I'm thinking this must mean full recovery. But the question still begs to be answered, what was wrong with her anyway?

After that vet bill, she's the most expensive thing we own (excluding cars, the living room furniture is a close second). Pretty sickening, glad she's still alive to be our mouser--though I'm not sure being mouse free is worth $800.