The prompt is "medical"

...And, surprisingly in light of all of us sitting at home under quarantine, the medical prompt isn't resulting in a human interest story but one of a cat. My cat, sort of.

About 11 years ago, my neighbor who lived behind me came to me in a distraught state. He was a cat rescuer—he would go out and find ferals around dumpsters in parking lots, trap them and get them fixed, and release them; but if they showed any sign of being friendly and tameable, he would adopt them. At times he had as many as 20 cats living at his house.

Unfortunately, both he and his wife lost their jobs in the course of six months, and were being forced to sell their house before it went into foreclosure. He had found homes for all but six of the cats, but the new apartment into which he was moving would only allow him to bring three, and he wanted me to keep the other three.

Since all of them were familiar to me, having migrated over to my yard to get an extra meal now and then, I agreed to take care of them. That's how I got Orwen, Griselda, and Elphaba. Those were the names I gave them to start, but the names proved either badly chosen or ill-fated. I lost Orwen a year ago to a septic infection in her leg. Griselda is still around and going strong, only she didn't turn out to have the personality for either that full name or a nickname of Zelda, so I rechristened her Gidget, which suits her personality much better. Her nickname is "Patsy," because she likes to be held and patted rhythmically. As for Elphaba, I initially thought she was a girl, but she turned out to have a different orientation, so I shortened HIS name to Elf, after briefly considering and rejecting Fabio.

Elf is an odd cat. He doesn't come up to you begging for attention, but if you approach him, he stands his ground and waits for you to pet him or pick him up or whatever. He's not exactly affectionate, but he does enjoy company. And he has a steady stare that some find quite disconcerting. He turns out to be a bit fae, so Elf is probably a good name.

Unlike Gidget, who hangs full-time in my back yard, Elf is a wanderer, and befriended my next-door neighbors. They didn't know he belonged to me, and started feeding him, and gave him the name "Q" (not, as I initially thought, after the enigmatic Star Trek character, which would have been appropriate, but because his favorite sleeping place was their barbeCUE.) At some point we all figured out he was splitting his time between us, and so we both became casual about whether he showed up for a meal or not, assuming he was getting one at the other's house.

This habit became perilous for Elf this week, because he became ill and neither of us noticed it for too long. I took him to the vet on Sunday after spending Saturday trying to get him to eat and drink, and the vet's diagnosis was dire: He has feline AIDS, is quite dehydrated, his breathing is labored, and he has a UTI. The vet told me 24 hours later that he had not improved at all from being hydrated, fed, and given a fast-acting antibiotic shot, and basically said I would be doing a mercy to let him go. Then, just as I was resigned to this course, the vet called back and said Um, let's wait and see, I'm not so sure. So now we are waiting.

This is a quick and dirty sketch of the vet's office (with several perspective mistakes) that I did while waiting for his call this morning. It hasn't come yet...

Adler Veterinary Group has been an institution in Van Nuys since 1981. It started as a partnership between the two Adler brothers, Ted and Craig, but after Ted retired, the partners sold out to the VCA veterinary chain and became part of their network. I've been going there on and off since 1982.

(Parenthetical question: Why are cartoon characters inevitably drawn without PANTS?!)