The Terrible Case of Mysterious Tummy Trouble

Bob's been off his anti-nausea meds for a week and the vomiting has returned. At first, I hoped it was due to a tiny hairball that he expelled, but later in the day he vomited again and this time it was all his food. My heart is broken. I'm frustrated and angry and tired. I so want Bob to bounce back and stabilize, but perhaps his belly didn't get enough rest or perhaps I allowed him access to too much of that tempting high fat dry food? I blame myself, but in my defense I've been trying so hard to get Bob to eat an adequate amount of food that I will let him have just about anything he wants, within reason.

My search for the low fat canned food that he will LOVE continues. I'm at the point of ordering a case of food, just to try one can. I stopped myself, but you can see I'm struggling. I add baby food, I warm up the food, I try a bit of this, a bit of that. Bob eats a little, then goes away. If I have to feed him 6 times a day, then I would do that, but I just worry he's not getting enough overall.

Bob is thinner and his coat is not so great. I brush him so he looks nice and I do see him cleaning himself, still. He enjoys some play time and he seems to go to Nick or Nora to be comforted by their friendship. Bob's still Bob, but for how much longer? He slips along this slope on a downward track. I know where the bottom will take him. I'm endlessly sad. I can't cure old age, so I take it one day at a time and try to enjoy every purr and take some comfort in every mouthful of food I see him eat.

I could opt to do exploratory surgery on him, but I think it's too much. We don't know how old Bob really is and he may be well into his teens. Is that fair to do to him? I think not. I think he needs to just enjoy a quiet life, with all the supportive care I can give him at home.

Bob never would have lived this long without me adopting him after my Mother passed away. He would have long ago died from neglect-the shame I carry with me. My own, dear, Mother, truly could have been labeled as treating her animals cruelly. She never took her cats to the Vet, even to be neutered or get basic wellness exams. She said it was cruel to frighten them and put them under a knife. She let one of her cats die from a blockage. Once I found out, I stopped speaking to her for months. We always battled each other about this.

We were such polar opposites, I often wondered if I really was her daughter. For someone who would feed any and all animals that came near her home, when those animals needed her most, she turned away and claimed it was "Nature" and to just let them be. So they would die. She would have hated all I've done for Bob, claiming it a foolish waste of money. Just let him go outside until he didn't home one day. That would be her answer. I can't do that. I'm not going to give up, but I sure wish I knew how to cure this mysterious case of Bob's tummy trouble.