I'm functioning on approximately three hours' sleep but am fighting the grogginess long enough to report that Comfort is simply suffering the effects of venerability and not some raging kitty disease. While this is not wonderful news, at least she isn't suffering. And no, I wasn't up all night worrying. (Brother-in-law just needs to get a softer guest bed!)
The kind vet and his lovely, rosy-cheeked assistant braved chilly winds and an overly excited Neko love attack to pay me a visit yesterday. Comfort was examined and pronounced "long in the tooth with failing kidneys," which made me sad. But the vet assured me she wasn't in any pain and was simply living out the last few days/weeks/months of her life with a slight case of distemper. She got a few cuddles and shot of penicillin in the butt, and waddled off, seemingly no worse for wear.
So, I guess a few extra moments in my lap and some warm milk are all I can do for her now. Sad, really, because she is such a lovely kitty. I'm sorry she won't see one more summer and have the change to lounge in the sun with baby & me. However, she seems to have had a relatively carefree, overfed life - and what more can a kitty ask for, really?
The vet was a real sweetheart and wouldn't charge me for the visit, so I paid him with two bottles of the boys' hard cider. He seemed quite tickled with it and I proudly relayed the story to D on our way to Waterloo last night. He looked horrified - turns out I'd given the vet the old, stinky, dran-o flavoured cider from two years ago by mistake! A quick phone call with instructions to pour it down the drain (or at least clean his toilet with it) remedied the situation; I'll be sheepishly delivering the "good stuff" tomorrow. Kind of embarrassing, especially after I'd extolled the virtues of "Someday Cider" for about 10 minutes to the vet before he left...