It's been about two months since I brought Fuzzy home from the hospital. He's had his final follow-ups and been pronounced healthy. He's not going to need the surgery.

His hair is growing back. At least it feels like I'm petting a cat again not a naked mole rat or, as his hairs grew in short and wiry initially, a small dog. He's regained the weight he lost. He whimpered after going to the bathroom and strained at the end each time for a good month, but now both behaviors have passed.

Somewhere along the way, they switched veterinarians on him. The newbie vet handed him off to the owner of the hospital. I don't know what she did, but it worked.

I look at him sometimes and can't believe I almost lost him. Sometimes I say to him, "You don't even know something horrible happened to you, do you?"

It's a good thing he didn't need the operation, because, despite my good intentions, about a week after I got him home I completely crashed. I pretty much slept for two whole weeks, only managing to occasionally drag myself to the computer and to eat. The stress took its toll on me.

I'm still disgusted with myself that if it had been up to me alone he wouldn't have made it. A very special thanks to everyone on JU and elsewhere that helped out. If it hadn't been for you, Fuzzy literally would not be here now. If it hadn't been for the money on its way and the support everyone showed, I couldn't have got him back in and they certainly wouldn't have kept working on him. You saved a kitty's life.


So, Fuzzy's okay -- me not so much! -- and things are back to their normal abnormal around here. Which means as soon as I'm done paying his hospital bill, I'll be able to take that money and buy him insurance so if anything should ever happen again, money will not be a consideration.

You did good, JU. Pat yourself on the back.