STAY OF EXECUTION!!!!

LUNA LIVES!!!

Vet just left - we're doing ONE MORE TEST, but remember that blinding, road to Damascus, angels sang, Mother Nature reaching her hand in and intervening, miracle we were talking about?

Erm...no. That didn't QUITE happen, but our regular, traveling vet came and looked at the test results from the emergency clinic, asked some questions, did an exam, and the upshot: Luna has put on weight, is no longer quite so dehydrated, is breathing better, and might not...MIGHT NOT...need to go to the great litter box in the sky.

So, though she lives in the basement apartment by herself (don't worry, it's a nice apartment, not a damp, concrete basement - and she gets plenty of company as that's where the big flatscreen TV, the beer fridge, and exercise room is, and hence where SPOUSE does most of his sports viewing and I do all of my working out and big movie viewing) with her own litter box, food, bedding, and freedom from the other cats. And as long as she has some kind of quality of life down there, and this last test result is negative (FIV/Leukemia/cancer) she'll spend the rest of her life in isolated, sports-viewing, fleece blanket bliss.

She's not out of the woods. She's off the appetite stimulant, off the antiobiotics, and if she tests positive for any disease at all, or if she suddenly takes another downward turn and her life sucks again, the vet comes back with the death needle and canvas bag.

But still. She'll be around with her button face and big mitts for at least another week or two. But she'll never be upstairs for the rest of her life, because even if I get this piss stench out of my couch, she'll never have an opportunity to do THAT again.

I have to draw some lines somewhere. I'll spoil my cats rotten, but I will NOT sit in cat piss on my own couch.

So...there.