The little cat Irene brought home seems to have been a feline version of Typhoid Mary. She came complete with some sort of upper respiratory tract infection that has spread through our other cats.
I can hear you saying “but don’t you keep new cats in isolation?” And the answer would be “uhm, yeah, sort of, well, for a few minutes, maybe.” I think there was an element of “the kitten is cute: she should meet the other cats” mixed with “it sure would be nice to get past this awkward stage where our house is totally disrupted” feelings. Anyway, she was only in isolation for about 24 hours. And she was sick within 48. Here we are a week later, and half the cats in the house are under the weather.
Rommel, of course, is the worst hit. I say “of course” because I am a firm believer in Murphy. If you are about to go on a long car drive, that’s the day your car will break down. If you have nearly maxed out your credit cards, thats just when you’ll lose your job. And, if a cat is going to get really sick, its naturally going to be the cat that is the worst possible patient.
To make matters worse, I’m sick too. I’m variously suffering from a sore throat, stomach/GI problems, fever/nausea, and just generally feeling crappy. I can’t blame the cats since, to the best of my knowledge, we can’t really share flu germs. But I am growling at them anyway.
Rommel growls right back. We make a fine pair.