It's a cloudy day at the farmette. It's supposed be unusually hot. Hoping, once again, for rain. The news is pretty much 24/7 about Queen Elizabeth II's death and King Charles III ascension to the throne. Other than that, there's a new Conservative leader as of yesterday. Wondering which way this country will go...
Anyhow. We didn't do our Georgian Bay road trip as planned, because poor Hobbes took a turn. On Labour Day Monday, he seemed to have had another stroke over night. His head tilt was bad, and, while his appetite was fine, he couldn't keep any food down. We talked to the vet on call, who said to keep an eye on him, and make sure he stayed hydrated. We were going to wait, but his lack of progress meant we had to take him over to Mildmay (1/2 hour away) for an emergency checkover in the afternoon. Dr. Whale was great, and we got more medication. Anti-nausea pills and more steroids.
So, after I cancelled the hotels, Rob cancelled the Chi Cheemaun ferry ride, and I had a little cry, we sucked it up and walked it off, because our boy was more important than anything. Plus, we can do day trips when the colours up here are stupendous.
Hobbes has been a character since the beginning when we rescued him in 2012 from our new-to-us barn. His mother had buggered off and two sisters had already died. Rob swore he wasn't going to bury another one, so we put the little flea-bitten, wheezing scrap of orange fur in the wood working shop and hoped like hell he would survive.
While we didn't even know if he was weaned, the first time we put down warmed up food, he zambonied his way across the little saucer, so we kind of knew he'd be okay.
He had his quirks. Initially, he hissed and spat to protect himself, but once the food started, he was a changed tabby. He'd often climb up on Rob's desk and lay his head in his hand.
He was welcomed by the feline family at the time. Nick loved him from the start, and I think that paved the way for Hobbes being so welcoming to the next generation of Harris-Wilson cats.
When we got Calvin in late 2018, Hobbes took to him right away, curling up on the furniture and napping alongside him.
When the two little ones were dumped on us in late 2019, there was no muss or fuss at all about Fred and Wilma joining the family. In fact, Hobbes was happy to be the greeter, cosying up to both.
He's still got the head tilt, and he's still a bit shaky on his pins. Rob and I think it might be a permanent state. But he's now eating and keeping it down, and all the other plumbing seems to be working okay.
We also think he'll be around for a lot longer, but if not, we've had an amazing run with this lovely boy. Until next week.