It appears old age has finally caught up with Uncle Keaks. Our nineteen year-old patriarch has been lethargic for the past week refusing all manner of stinky goodness. Only Cat Sip, a little Fancy Feast gravy and a couple syringes of cod liver oil have passed his lips. Most unlike him.
Squeaker, July 2011
My Own took him to the vet this afternoon. He is in for observation. Please send purrs his way.