My husband reported when he got home tonight that Harris had been picky about his breakfast this morning and only ate about half his usual amount, even though my husband helpfully switched around the bowls so Harris could choose from the other cats' flavors.
If I had known, I would have worried about it all day, but I'm now making up for lost time.
Harris played a little with me today, but preferred to watch me getting all the exercise. He has adopted the Reclining Method of hunting made famous by Possum and Toffee. As recently as Sunday Harris would race around after a toy until he was panting and hysterical, acting more like a kitten than our little Lion.
While I was vacuuming today and locating all the toys that get lost under the bookcases, something hard got stuck in my crevice attachment. I realized it was the chewed-up, hard, dry root from a head of garlic. Oh, no. I thought I'd used that up and thrown it out more than a week ago. The cats must have found the place where I've been hiding the garlic on our counter for years, and someone could have eaten some. And garlic is toxic. Harris.
I called the vet immediately and she reassured me. Whatever problem Harris has, it's not from eating papery garlic peel some days ago. She said she never heard of a cat actually eating garlic; the problems usually come from cats eating it in cooked foods they already like, like meat. There's not much toxin in those papery wrappings, if any.
When I told her about Harris's symptoms she wasn't alarmed. But she wants to see him if he's not better in a few days. She's going on vacation and her last day is Tuesday. So we can see her then, or tomorrow, or on Saturday. (Or all three, knowing us.)
Harris wasn't happy with his supper so I switched bowls for him until he ate close to his full amount. Then I greedily offered him a little more. He left the kitchen and threw up everything. My fault entirely. I hope. Less than an hour later, he sweetly asked for food, twining around my legs, so I opened one of our few remaining cans of rabbit. The Hound & Gatos company has been out of stock for months, and this expensive flavor is, of course, everyone's favorite. Those cans are precious, and at the moment they are all Harris's.
He ate all that I gave him and kept it down. He's been lying quietly on the bed ever since, with plenty of furry company.
We are both worried about him. Something's not quite right. If he's not much better tomorrow, he's going to the vet pronto. It's scary when young cats get sick. It's scary whenever cats get sick. I'm a wreck, with everything I know about horrible, fatal diseases floating unbidden through my mind. I am clearly not used to this special kind of hell anymore.