One year ago

Freddie Purrcury sits in the hard, plastic carrier that is strapped into the passenger seat next to me. He gives a worried meow, and I rest my hand on the carrier reassuringly, and then realize that it’s probably actually not that reassuring.

We are on the way home from the vet’s office, where he charmed everyone with his handsome features and his friendly demeanour. We haven’t had him for very long yet. He’s still afraid to sit on the furniture and he still watches us while he eats, surprised that we’re feeding him and also worried that we’re going to take his food away. He eats his food too fast and then he throws up. He wanders around the house at night meowing loudly and sounding distressed. His gritty, sandpaper-like coat is starting to get softer with daily brushing, but now he has a bald spot.

I wonder, Is this cat just stressed out being in a new place, or is he sick?

The vet thinks that he’s going to be okay. She gives us some food for cats with upset stomachs, a canned and meaty version of mashed potatoes.

Freddie seems relieved when I bring the cat carrier into the house and open the door. His new brother, Sirius, is happy that I brought Freddie back, too.

I prepare their dinner for them. I set the food for sick kitties down in front of Freddie and the regular cat food in front of Sirius. Each cat looks at their bowl of food, and then at the other cat’s bowl of food. Without any hesitation, they switch spots.