“Recovering at home,” I guess, is the best phrase to use. He looks a little peculiar, since they partially shaved both his forelegs — one for the first IV he was on, and the other to use when he (somehow or other) pulled the first cannula out. He’s been ambling around looking vague, or else sleeping a lot, and right now — today being an unusually nice day for Ireland, sunny and still — he’s sitting out in the back yard soaking up the sunshine.
…But “recovering” is kind of an optomistic usage here. Chronic renal failure is 100% fatal, eventually. It’s just a question now of how long “eventually” takes. Right now we have to give the medications Squeak is on enough time to kick in, and see whether they help his appetite (which right now is worryingly marginal) and his other symptoms. He’s drinking well enough, though not as much as he was when he was in crisis last week — which is a good thing. The question now becomes whether he’ll start feeling like eating enough to make some kind of improvement in his condition likely.
This is, finally, a quality-of-life issue. Squeak has always been a dignified cat, and there’s no point in depriving him of that dignity, especially at his advanced age, just for the sake of what might be only a few more months of life. I’m guessing that within a couple of weeks we’ll know whether there’s any point in continuing vet runs for blood work and so forth, or if it would be kinder for all concerned — especially our most senior puss — to ask our local vet to make one last house call.
Meanwhile, through all of this, work goes on. It ain’t easy. But thanks to everybody who’s tweeted or emailed to send support. (And thanks also to all those who picked up a subscription to The Big Meow, or a copy of the Uptown Local and Other Interventions anthology or something else from the ebook shop, to help with the vet bills. It’s seriously appreciated.)