Updated 8.12.23: A Brief Update on Felix's Health Situation

It's not looking great but I'm thinking happy thoughts

Felix in more rotund times

As most of you know, I hate everyone except for my tubby Tabby cat. The moment this little minx jutted his paw out of a cage in Williamsburg’s BARC Rescue, I know he was mine. I fought against his fat shaming by yelling at every vet in L.A. to convince me that eating one more can of tuna would an obituary. After years of searching, I found a vet who respected my plump kitty, didn’t judge him, but was matter-of-fact about his health when the blood tests came in.

Could he stand to lose a few pounds? Sure. Is he in mortal danger? Not really.

However, since I’ve landed in the Hades that is Bakersfield, Felix has changed. And it wasn’t overnight. Over the course of five months, he’s lost half his body weight. He’s ten pounds—the weight everyone wants him to be—but I know he’s sick. I can trace the the bones of his skeleton on his back. I notice he eats twice as much as he used to it, hoovers water like he’s on a survivalist show, and spends most of his days supine, pining for pets.

No longer is he interested in his favorite mouse toy. No longer does he want to terrorize the feral cats in my garden.

I had flashbacks of previous mistakes (Sophie) and how I ignored her sickness because I was too busy working for a job that had been slowly killing me. With Felix, I promised a 747 parenting model. Every little sniffle and I’d take him to the vet. And, over the years, I’ve learned to adjust his diet (he can’t eat any form of poultry) lest he has GI issues, but this, this is something new.

I don’t like to cry in front of people. Instead, I talk non-stop. I can’t shut up. So, I’m sitting in front of a vet who’s probing my little boy and I’ve giving him the history of us, all the things he has to know, and I apologize for not having brought him in sooner.

The doctor is old and wise when he says I don’t judge. We all are doing the best we can do. He’s here now and that’s all that should matter to you.

So, we got the Cadillac of tests run—blood, urine, x-rays, the whole nine but we think best case it’s a tapeworm infection and worst case it’s a thyroid issue or diabetes. And I ask if I caused this—if I could have prevented this and the doctor refuses to allow me to rip myself to shreds in an examining room.

Could I have been better? I say. I turn away and and my lips tremble, but I don’t cry.

And many don’t get it because they have children and nothing shines brighter than a waddling toddler, but for those of us who’ve spared the world our DNA, my cat is my child and I will sacrifice for him. I will eat less if it means I could pay for his medical bills because that’s what you do when you love someone more than you love yourself.

What a weight that is. When an animal looks up at you and believes you are home to them. During the examination, I held his paw the whole time and I could feel his eyes on him when needles were prodding him and instruments went inside him.

I bite my lip and said, mommy’s here. She’s right here.

The vet tells me to wait for the test results and we can determine what’s next. And for the slightest second I was angry for having to spend hundreds of dollars on him and then I paused and realized what the world would be like if Felix weren’t in it. This is about him, not me. And it’s my job to step back and do everything I can do for the one precious thing I truly love.

My mother was my first and only hurt. And I’ve spent a lifetime trying to find and define love and I’ve mostly been unsuccessful. But with Felix, I want to do this right. I want him to know that I would sacrifice anything to see him fat and happy again.

Because while America puts a price on happiness, for me, for us, love has no number. It’s what we’re willing to sacrifice. What we can bear.

UPDATE 8.12.23

FELIX is diabetic. I am taking him in next week for a full-day hospitalization to determine his insulin levels. Since this is a lot of $$ I don’t have and since I don’t believe in GoFundMe’s (this is no shade on anyone, just my vibe), I’m offering all folks 40% off items in my Poshmark and eBay closets. Simply send me a 40% offer and I’ll accept. Proof of his bloodwork below.

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P.S. I might have typos, ya’ll. I’m doing the best that I can with a turbulent situation.