Not long after I’d given up on every seeing Furball again, he came home. He was so thin you could see his spine; his fur was ratty, and he was weak. I picked him up and took him in the house. Jazzy was so happy to see him that she wouldn’t leave him alone. I opened a can of food and gave him a little at a time. He would have devoured several cans if I would have let him.
Much to his dismay, Furball was forced to stay inside to rest and recover. I knew he needed to go to the vet, but in his fragile condition I didn’t think he could handle it. He was fed canned food numerous times a day and had limited access to dry. Since he hadn’t eaten in so long, I didn’t want him to over eat. After several days of inside recovery, food and a few good brushings, he started to look better. It was time for the vet.
He was thoroughly examined and had bloodwork done. Other than being full of worms, he was in surprisingly good condition. The vet gave him wormer and sent me home with another dose for him and one for Jazzy as a precaution.
Furball continued to get stronger and act more like himself. He was demanding to go out (which he wasn’t) and being a problem child because he wasn’t getting his way. A few days after his vet trip, Furball was to be given his 2nddose of wormer. It didn’t take long for him to start vomiting and having diarrhea. He was in pain. Dead worms were coming out of both ends. Dead tapeworms were being expelled in large numbers. I called the vet and Greg rushed him down. The tapeworms were so bad they were eating holes in his insides and there was nothing that could be done.
Our Furball was buried on the hill in one of his favorite sitting spots, overlooking the house.