Unexpected Guest

No seizures again today, thankfully.

We'll go in tomorrow to see Connor's neurologist, and he'll put together a plan that probably involves upping his medication by a good bit and, if he continues to have seizures, sending him back down to Children's for another video EEG so they figure out what the heck is going on. Hopefully the meds will do the trick.

Connor had his sedated ABR this morning, and it went pretty well. He's had about a 10 decibel hearing loss across the board, which isn't terrible-- we didn't even have to adjust his hearing aids. We'll continue to keep an eye on his hearing as there's a good chance it will continue to deteriorate as he gets older.

I was moving a load of things into the new apartment today, and I had the screen door open while I walked back and forth from the trunk of my car to the back bedroom. After one of my trips back to the bedroom, I emerged into the living room to see a huge brown tabby cat sitting in the middle of the floor.

This was not my cat.

I had never seen this cat before in my entire life, and here he was, calmly surveying the interior of my apartment like he owned the place. I called him, and he came bounding up immediately, head-butting my ankles a couple of times and then running to the kitchen, where I'm assuming his food bowl was kept at one point. He has a ridge of fur pressed down on his neck where there used to be a collar.

Poor cat.

I think the people who lived here before us dumped him when they moved. I picked him up, and gently carried the huge purring bundle of fur back outside, where I deposited him and closed the screen. I thought about calling animal control, but it was after five o'clock at this point. I didn't have a cat carrier with me, and there's no litter box or cat food in the house right now, so I couldn't keep him there overnight. He seems like an incredibly sweet cat, but I already have two completely insane cats and adding a third cat and a move at the same time is a recipe for disaster. Besides which, I'm not sure I could handle having two brown tabbies the size of small ponies. If they tried to lay on my lap at the same time I'd probably never get up again.

The rest of the time spent at the apartment was one giant guilt trip. The cat hung out at the screen door, butting his head against it and every once in a while stretching the full length of the door to gently bat at the handle. Every time I came outside, he'd frantically run over and begin weaving in and out of my legs, making moving the furniture I'd brought with me especially exciting. When I left the apartment he was camped out on the porch, looking at me pitifully with huge gold eyes.

Anybody need a cat?

~Jess