This morning, for the first time since coming home last Thursday, Ernie put up quite a struggle when I was giving him his tablet and then scooshing the powder mixed with water down his throat using a syringe, and this afternoon when I arrived home from work he was sitting looking much more alert than of late, so we set off to the vet this afternoon with me feeling a bit more positive and hopeful.
But it's not to be.
The blood test showed that his creatinine level has soared to over 1200, which apparently is a pretty conclusive indication that his kidneys are still failing. Irretrievably so.
So despite him seeming happier, and apparently feeling well enough to put up a bit of a fight this morning, and despite him currently lying on my lap purring happily as I type this, the outlook is poor. Completely poor. Absolutely poor. Devastatingly poor. Terminally poor.
I've to look out for Ernie becoming like he was a bit over a week ago. Tired, lethargic, not eating, or drinking. When that happens, and it will happen, I've to make an appointment to take my little beautiful friend on his last journey. Are you surprised that I'm crying right now?
The vet, when asked, initially thought the time scale might be a couple of weeks, and when I said I was going on holiday in two weeks, he admitted that he actually expects to see me later this week.
So from now on little Ernest will be eating whatever he wants to eat, and will get as much loving attention and care that I can possibly give him.
Please think of us.