Calypso Spots Alarms Us

Ms. Spots, perhaps distressed that I had gone off for a couple of days without warning her, went off her feed yesterday. She exhibited no interest in her evening treats and sat resolutely under the desk, although she was agreeable when petted.
Since one can never be sure what lack of appetite is all about, I took her to the night vet to make sure she wasn't getting bloat or some other rapidly fatal condition. On the whole, she was deemed in decent shape, so after some subcutaneous fluids she got to come home for the night.
In the morning, she was reasonably frisky and ate a few greens, but was not quite her usual self, so back to the vet she went. The diagnosis is that her digestive tract is a bit static, not yet seriously so, and that the patient is well enough to express annoyance and jump about. Consequently, the idea is to keep whatever it might be from becoming any worse. She might be just fine tomorrow, or she might fight something off for the next couple of weeks. I had to be trained how to give her fluids (it makes me squeamish, but is not actually that hard so long as someone else keeps her from leaving the scene with needle attached) and we came home with an array of medications.
Her Abundance was very glad to get home and get back to the vital ministrations of her devoted Orion, who immediately began anxiously licking her. The fine pair are now napping under the desk in a state of conjugal adoration.
Her human, on the other hand, is obliged to wonder whether plans to go to the Getty next week will have to be changed or scrapped.