He was a sad sight: he retched, his belly convulsed, but all he could bring up was a few drops of yellow bile. We had no idea what to do. The only medicine we’d ever given him was some crushed antibiotic pills in his food, but since he wasn’t eating, the only way was to force them down. I put on the mackintosh, went out on the balcony and caught Tabby. In the teeth of stiff resistance, Xulu opened his jaws and we got the medicine down his throat, but even this was no guarantee of success. As soon as we let him go, he threw up violently. And when I say, ‘threw up violently’, I don’t mean he brought up more than normal. On the contrary, the only product was the powdered pill and the spoonful of liquid in which they had been dissolved. It was the act of vomiting which was violent. Tabby convulsed, in a sort of mechanical rhythm, as if he was a clockwork vomiting cat. But the only result was a token amount of green bile which trickled from the corner of his mouth. We really felt that we should take him to the animal hospital, but then again, perhaps we were making a fuss about nothing.
What do You think about A Tabby-cat's Tale (2014)?
