No more zombies.

Duchess is alive! We took her to the doctor today, to make sure that she wasn't dying.* She's been tragic and lethargic for five days now, not eating, barely even stirring herself to read occasionally, and she was starting to look like a doomed consumptive character in a Victorian novel, all eyes and bones and hair. It was all very unlike Duchess, except for the whining. Duchess, as it turns out, is not at all a pleasant patient, and Cook and I were both feeling very frustrated by both her crappy behavior and her failure to bounce back from the illness. When they weighed her at the medical office, she weighed 6 pounds less than she did at her checkup in November. The doctor's verdict was that she has a stomach virus, and is dehydrated. The doctor's lecture, and the anti-nausea medication she gave Duchess on the spot, inspired Duchess to drink a lot of water this evening, and eat a few raviolis, and begin her return to life. She even participated tonight in the epic ongoing Polly Pockets story that Skipper and she have been engaged in for weeks. So I think she's going to make it.


*Well, you know. More than usual.