I feel very poorly.
Softie and the British One are worried because I am not eating, but I am just not hungry. Every time I eat anything I have very bad problems in the litterbox.
Softie tried to get me to eat by preparing a delicious braised chicken and gravy dish for me, which I enjoyed quite a bit until a few hours later, when it exploded out the other end.
I have retired to the chair and am mentally readying myself for a trip to the not-quite-evil hippie vet. I know they are going to take me.
I hope they are going to take me.
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