Reflections on the Second Week of Summer

George snoozed through the beginning of the week. He stopped eating, drinking, and eliminating. I made a vet appointment. Spence petted, finger-dipped water onto George's nose, and offered cooked chicken. George nibbled a bit and peed once, but we drove his limp fur-and-bones to the vet anyway. The blood work and his temperature were fine, but he was dehydrated and had lost a pound in a week. The vet injected fluids, prescribed three medications, and said, “If he's not eating, bring him back Monday.” I squirted stool softener into his mouth, held his jaws shut, and ignored the bubbles he forced through his lips. Holding him between my legs, I pried his mouth open, dropped the appetite enhancer in, clamped his jaws shut, and stroked his throat. When he'd swallowed three times, I let him go. He scampered away and spit the pill onto the floor. After five tries, I gave up. I dissolved his stomach soother in water and squirted that down his throat. He spit it out. But he nibbled dry cat food and pooped on Independence Day. By then, Emma had stopped eating, drinking, and eliminating. She hid under wisteria vines. I gave her George's squirtable meds. Spence petted and finger-dipped water drops. In vain, he offered beer, broth, chicken, and trout. Sunday morning, she peed and drank water from a flooded plant tray. Ears twitching, tail swishing she monitored wildlife from the deck. We repeatedly told her she was a good girl, but she needed to eat or she'd see the vet Monday. Finally, she joined George at the food bowl and ate a few kibbles.