Dirty bum practicum

Phoebe hasn't been well. Last Wednesday she coughed up her first furball, accompanied by the balance of her stomach contents. Throughout the house. Thursday she seemed better, but Friday morning diarrhea hit. Every time we think she's feeling better, it happens again.

We've managed to get an appointment with her vet for this afternoon. In the meantime, since I am exempt from litterbox duty, Werner has been kept very busy cleaning up. (And it hasn't been pretty.) We've kept her in our ensuite when it has been at its worst, and allowed her in our room when she's between bouts. The poor girl is lonely and seems worried that we're angry with her. She won't let us clean her up, either.

I keep thinking about the bags of diapers we have. I'm sure we could notch out a tail opening; if only we could convince her to wear one, she could again have the run of the house.

But, I'm sure this is nothing to the bodily fluids that we'll be dealing with in the coming months. (Years.)