Poor Kitty

Sally’s not getting better. It’s been over a year since we got Chloe and she’s still completely bonkers and hiding and not using the box and barely eating. She was semi-fine in the basement living room if we kept the door latched. Yet even then she rarely came out from under the bed. And the door didn’t stay closed all the time because it’s not her room, it’s our room dammit! We’ve evicted her a few times over the past year but she always seems to end up back in there. I feel sorry for her crazy ass and let her go back in. But it was starting to reek of catshit from her crapping under the bed whenever she was too chicken to go the three feet to her catbox. So we evicted her when we were staying down there while my in-laws were visiting. It seemed like she was better for a little while. She even came part of the way up the stairs! And then she started hiding. I would find her behind a box or under a desk or on top of my sewing basket or under a table and sure enough, there would be a pile of turds right next to her. She even pissed all over the old iMac! I’d clean it all up, put her back into her box in the laundry room, stop up the access to the space, rinse and repeat. Right now she’s been sitting in the laundry room sink. I don’t know if she’s moved out of there for a couple of days. She’s not the kitty that I used to know and love. She’s an empty shell.

I can’t blame Chloe though. It’s not her fault. Sally was like this before but hid it better. When you live in a one bedroom apartment it’s easier to overlook the fact that she’s never in the same room as Smoe; she’s just sleeping in the bedroom! But the truth is, she can’t live with other cats. And we would’ve gotten another cat eventually. I’m sure the only reason she was fine with Tron is that she could sense he was dying.

Sally has really brought this upon herself. We did everything right to introduce those two cats to each other. But she chose to let her hate consume her. I don’t know why I should’ve expected any other fate for a Sith lord. So now I have to call a vet and find out if they think she can be rehabilitated. I have to keep hope that she’ll be fine in a house without any other cats. With a patient human that will care for her and not have the distractions of a two year old son. She’s only ten; she’s got a lot of years ahead of her. But I’m terrified that the answer will be that Xenoba cannot be turned from the dark side. I’ve never had to bring a pet in for *that* reason before.