About a week ago, we noticed an injury high on Geronimo’s tail which wasn’t healing. Seeking advice from cat-savvy friends, we were told, variously: dab it with alcohol, treat with hydrogen peroxide, wash with water, put on antibiotics, do NOT put on antiobotics, ad conflicteum.

Yesterday, the normally-feisty tabby was behaving much like my first husband, without the affinity for beer: he barely moved all day, engaged in no activities whatsoever, and had an overall dullness which spelled V-E-T.

By 5 pm our little guy was latched into a cat carrier, emitting high-pitched opinions all the way to the vet’s office. The diagnosis was abscess, requiring surgery, stitches, and a three-night Ann-And-Neal-expense-paid stay at Chez Veterinaire. Geronimo was so good at the vet’s office, by the way. In the waiting area when he was still encaged, I knelt on the floor to coo to him, and was shocked: I’d never before seen the normally cool, swaggering hepcat in this state. He was shivering, shaking, and trying to bury his sweet face in the corner of his cage; it was awful. However, once in the exam room and out of the carrier, he charmed the nurse and the doctor with his flirtatious ways, letting them rub his head and then, after being let off the table, curiously asking to be let back on the table, presumably to look around some more. Some cat.

Now Neal and I find ourselves catless for the first time since last July, and it’s surprisingly unbearable. Geronimo fills up the entire apartment — not just with his Nip Box, Den of Inikitty (don’t ask), assorted balls and stuffed Things, catnip-peppered chair, his Mom Blanket, and food and water and snack bowls. He fills it up with his Geronimo energy, all playful and important and sudden and affectionate. It’s not right without him.

I’m not a Cat Person. I never, ever thought I’d be writing the praises of a fluffy paw-possessor that wasn’t a dog. But Geronimo is extraordinary (no, really). I know you won’t believe me, you’ll think I’m just one of those nuts who treats their pet like it was a kid or something insane like that.

Nonsense. But I do want to keep this short. The vet’s office will be closing soon and I need to call Geronimo and tell him ‘good-night’ and that I love him.