"Where Is My Chicken Soup?"

Ponzo was a relatively healthy-looking cat throughout the entire month of August. That is, until last Friday. By Saturday morning, Ponzo was running a slight fever, which meant his body was trying to fight the FIV, and I played nurse again. The good news is that the fever broke on Sunday, and Ponzo decided to eat on his own soon afterwards. After drinking some water, he inspected his four food bowls. Ignoring the bowl filled with dry catfood, Ponzo walked up to an empty bowl, which happened to be his designated chicken soup bowl. I did not have to be fluent in any feline dialect to understand Ponzo's disapproving gaze, questioning me, "Where is my chicken soup?"

This morning, Ponzo is waiting impatiently for his chicken soup, which I just took out of the freezer. He is doing much better, although he is not playing with any of his toys--yet.

On July 3, I was told that there is no way of predicting Ponzo's future: maybe he will be around for a couple more years, or maybe he will be gone by the end of this summer. In July, I had believed the latter, but then in the month of August, Ponzo seemed to be well on the road to recovery. Yes, I know there is no cure for FIV, which is why I believed he had been bitten by a black widow spider. The point I am trying to make is that Ponzo has a strong spirit, which gives me hope.