When a good dog goes bad.

Sapphira may be dying. In fact, as you read this, she may have already passed away.

I heard a strange sound as I was closing down the house for bed. It was strange enough that I went out back to investigate, and there she was, lying on her side in the grass, the fur around her middle all matted down with dog slobber. But she didn't move, and her breathing made an odd, raspy sound and was more shallow and rapid than it should be. I scooped her up and brought her inside, scolding Brizzy for being too rough, and called the emergency vet. As I drove to the vet, tears rolled down my face. How could this happen? They are buddies! And Brizzy was clearly confused by her demeanor, not triumphant or dominant at all. What was he thinking, and why didn't she swat him like she usually does if he gets out of line?

We'll never know, I guess. But for now she's lying in a cage at the vet, fluids running through an IV, with air in her chest wall, a torn and bleeding liver, and an estimated 40% chance of survival. I know she's only a cat afterall, but she's our cat and we love her. And I'm crying myself to sleep. Please hope with me that she's still alive in the morning.