Screw You. I'll Bathe Myself.

When I open the bathroom door now, Glenwood usually hisses at me. This tiny, tiny hiss. My mature self understands; the rest of me worries, Is she really afraid of me? What did I do? The hissiness fades immediately and seems more like a reflex than a thought-out statement.

I'm getting good with the meds and vitamins. I put her in my lap, where she curls up, and comb her in between syringes, drops, and ointments. She loves the comb and purrs like a little machine. Last night's bath showed how incredibly soft and long her fur is (though she's still scratching too much).

What I didn't write last night (too upsetting) is how nothing she is wet. Nothing.

After the pharmaceuticals she started to bathe. I've seen her do a little housekeeping, but this was the real thing. I feared she hadn't learned that skill (and I mean feared), but apparently she just needed to find the energy. She was completely involved. That's a good sign!

My worries are the scratching, a little wheeziness in her breathing (occasionally), and her left eye. Part of the inside lid doesn't retract when her eyes are open. I'm eager for Saturday's visit with Dr. Ryan, but I'm thinking Glenwood isn't.