9:51 AM EST

A terrible night.

I gave Bob some food around 3:00 AM. Just simple chicken in broth. He licked at it a bit, but wasn't interested in it. It's not his favorite food, so perhaps that was the only reason. It didn't matter that he barely ate because an hour later, he vomited it all back up.

Bob kept vomiting almost exactly every hour until 7:30 AM. There was nothing but a scant bit of foam left to purge. I felt so bad for him. I could see he was miserable and I shared his misery. I kept trying to sleep. Just a bit of a nap while on the sofa. I wanted to be close to Bob and even coaxed him to lay next to me. He jumped up, purred, "made muffins," but didn't stay. A short while later, he vomited again.

I got about 30 minutes of sleep, during which time I had a nightmare. I dreamt that Sam and I were at a hotel or something that was connected to a mall. We had all our cats in Sam's car, but the car was too small and was a convertible so everything was exposed. Somehow Spencer got mauled and Bob was already sick. The other cats got out of the car and were running around loose. I wanted to get Spencer and Bob to Shoreline, which is a Vet hospital here in CT. I looked up and saw these people dressed in dark suits, wearing sunglasses. They were in a line prodding the ground with some sort of pole. I knew they were trouble. Suddenly, we were surrounded by them and they wanted to know what we were doing. I told them we needed to leave and they said they would take care of it. I knew they were going to kill Bob and Spencer and I knew I had to get out of there. They left for a moment and I told Sam to just grab whatever cats he could and that we needed to get out. If we left some behind, we would deal with it, but right now we needed to get Bob and Spencer to the hospital. Then, I woke up.

At 8:00 AM I called my Vet and spoke with Debbie. She's the only one I wanted to speak with, so I was relieved when she answered the phone. Deb doesn't let me fall apart. She'll crack a joke to keep me sane. I told her what was going on and she told me to "get my ass in here" and "to bring some coffee, will ya?" It helped me calm down enough to be able to wash my face, get dressed and get Bob to the Vet.

Bob was silent and still on the drive to Southbury. Just as I pulled into the parking space, Bob cried. He was curled back in the carrier, quite miserable. I thought he was going to vomit, but didn't. I got him into the Clinic and said good bye to him. I'm glad Debbie is there. She loves big red Maine Coon cats and is so great with Bob. She promised me they would not put Bob down. I want to believe that.

I know Bob's in good hands. I know we'll all do our best for him, but I also know there are limitations to what can be done and that is what I fear most—the limitations, the "I'm sorry we can't do anything more but keep him comfortable until he dies." I can't bear the thought of it.

Please, let Bob be all right.