Cammie’s recovery seems to be complete now. As she was rising above her latest digestive problem, she contracted a cold. It wasn’t a major problem for her, and thank goodness it didn’t interfere in her renewed desire to eat. Some of her appetite has changed: she so far does not like anything but Fancy Feast, and my attempts to interest the princess in Merrick have been rebuffed, and she now disdains FortiFlora. This latter is disappointing, as it was previously an incentive to her eating. I am certain that her recent stomach ailment was caused by a new food, so I am reluctant to try anything novel on her highly selective tummy. But she is eating her soft-food (well, sometimes she decides that a particular portion is beneath her and refuses without explanation) and visits the hard-food bowl a satisfactory number of times a day. When she wants some kernels and they are not available, I give them to her. I hope to weigh her and the others this week.
Now, Tucker is sick. He picked up Cammie’s cold when she was done with it. The roly poly one suffers much more from colds when he acquires them than do the other beasts. He sneezes (on Friday, I counted nine in a row) and sniffles, little bubbles blowing out of his nose. He wheezes and sounds like a dusty bellows. But he will recover and, in the meantime, I am grateful that he continues to have an adequate appetite. He even plays a little during his illness.
One cat better, one cat worse; a normal weekend at the cosy apartment.