My forlorn feline

Something is up with poor J. He has been very quiet for the past two days or so, spending most of his time on my bed, sleeping a lot, losing weight, shedding hair and feeling listless. Not his usual self. It is clear that something is up when (a) he does not run from my nephew (b) he doesn't try to attack Pandy, the other cat (c) he doesn't try to wrestle with my hand (d) he doesn't bring me gifts.

He is eating though, so it's probably not something internal.

I have seen him like this before (sometimes) when he has been attacked by any strange cat. When he loses the fight, he becomes very quiet and sticks on to me until he gets over the assault. But I don't think it's that.

I think this is to do with his bad leg - the one which was x-rayed and nothing showed up. Tonight he is a bit more spritely, but still not himself. He was at least up and about, limping, then hopping, then holding the bad leg up and running on the three remaining legs.

I explained his symptoms over the phone to a vet friend who told me that it could be arthritis, as he is nine years old. She told me to try out some things. Liquid baby Panadol for two days to so to see if there is any change in his behaviour. If so, then it's pain ... and probably arthritic. For this, there is glucosamine. And, as much as he hates being transported, I'll either take him to the vet tomorrow or call Crystal to do a house call.

Another friend (a cat-lover who once babysat Jasper as a kitten when I was working in New York for 2 weeks years ago) on Friday night told me: "Elspeth, I've gone through this before with my cats. You may have to get ready to say goodbye to an old friend ..."

I don't think it's that time yet! But I do wish I could speak meow and really understand what's going on with the boy.