For a day, Dewey Kitty lounged in his chair and slept.
He didn't eat; he didn't follow me around the house; he didn't shred tissue paper.
So off to the vet he went.
"There's something seriously wrong with my cat," I told the vet. "He's being a good kitty."
One look at his mouth revealed inflamed gums and throat.
"Once this clears up, a dental is in his future," she said, giving him a few injections and sending him on his way.
A day later, he awoke me at 5 in the morning.
He demanded to sit on my lap and pay attention to him.
When I ignored him, he walked on my keyboard and sat in front of the monitor.
He perched atop the scanner and stared, stared, stared at me.
When noontime approached, he reminded me of his 3 p.m. feeding. And, when I eventually gave into his demands, he ate all of his food.
I was so happy to have my bad kitty back.