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We hadn't said anything about this yet but our poor cat, Tamara, has been to the vet nine times in 15 days.

When she showed up at our door in 2004, the vet told us she was somewhere between 3 and 6, which would make her 16-19 today.

A couple of weeks ago, she was struggling to go the bathroom, so we took her to the vet. They figured out that she's got serious kidney disease and a respiratory infection.

So, the cat we've tried so hard to avoid taking to the vet since she hates it so much (and is borderline feral with the vet staff) is getting shots and fluids about every other day. They actually keep her in the pet carrier so that they can stop her from fighting back. She's down to five pounds, but she's still a dangerous foe.

The funny part is that the vet is kind of in awe of her. By all accounts, her first test results were disastrous, but she's fought her way back to acceptable levels. The vet was just asking *me* how we were doing it.

There's a reason why Kim and I have always called Tamara our soldier girl. She's a warrior queen.


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