Okay, so you recall a few days ago, I wrote that, sadly, we were about to lose our long time feline companion Kallisti. The poor kitty had pneumonia, congestive heart failure, and had suffered a stroke while treating those, had lost the use of most of the left side of her body, and was, on top of all that, not passing feces. We both thought that it was only a matter of time before the cat either passed or before compassion forced us to arrange a coup de grace for her.
But the trouble with that was, we failed to take into account the cat's fierce lineage (including the legendary Mungo Jerry, after which we named our coffee house). Gradually, she got more and more command of her limbs, stubborn beast that she is. The congestion, with the help of meds, cleared from her lungs, her heart rate returned to normal, and today, finally, she began. . . well. . .pooping. I have never been so happy to see a pile of cat droppings.
Kallisti is nearly 18, so we know this is unlikely to be anything like a permanent recovery, but it's pleasing to have our happy and affectionate (and loud) shipmate back prowling the deck, now with a near normal gait.
One tough kitty, and a happy afternoon.