Cat, continued, with a bit of running

So the fun filled day of bloodwork was not as eventful as we'd hoped, meaning that they got two tests in and that was it. They'd wanted to run six and I'd okayed it...without clearing it with miss fang, who decided two was sufficient and fended off any further attempts. The vet and his staff were visibly shaken by my fearless wee panther, and I was perversely proud of her. Advice: up the dose to three units a day and wait, keep an eye on her appetite. Bring her back for more test in two months...please not before then, they needed a break from her fuzzy wrath. All good, right?
Not so much. Friday night, she stopped eating. This girl was 25lbs when I got her, and known for her appetite. I've seen her climb guests to get at tuna, oysters or butter...none of these things held any appeal. I've seen her launch herself into her food bowl with enough force to spray kibble hither and yon; I've seen her turn her head to meow at me for more food in mid chew, emitting a gurgle and dribbling chewed kibble on her back. In our care she slimed out to 15lbs but she's still the last fur person I'd think would willingly put herself on a cleanse. It was troubling to see her lack of lust for food.
This morning, Sunday, I hit her up with three units and tempted her with every food product handy. She looked at me in confusion and drank some water, curling up by her bowl and purring, but not eating. I went out to the Terry Fox Run in Wilket Creek with friends Veronica and Igal. I'm team captain at work and due to other events at work and such, turn out for the team was less than heartening. People signed up...but I was unable to find anyone who said they'd be there. I walked in the company of strangers most of the way, then I saw two team mates running and felt a bit better. I looked around at everyone there and felt better yet. The turn out over all was phenomenal and there's something about being part of a larger event, knowing that taking a walk in the park to clear your head is helping others...mood improved. At .5 km from the finish V&I ran past me. It was V's first 10km and I was immensely proud of her. As I watched their forms getting smaller before me I thought, what the hell. My knees hurt but they're still attached, and rest doesn't seem to be making them better. So I ran to meet them and ran with them the rest of the way. They, sweating and covered in the latest in runner technology and I, relaxed in sandal's, coffee mug in hand, still nursing a persistent hang over. We sat and looked out over the day, hoards of people all wearing Terry Fox regalia from different years of the run, marking their years of devotion to the event in cotton and ink. Isadore Sharpe, arguably the founder of the run, walked around and thanked people personally for coming out, as amiable a host as if we'd been in his living room. A band on stage played songs the lead singer composed for his late grandfather, and we watched toddlers dance to it. Charity runs are magic, and this was the largest one celebrating it's 25th in style.
At home, I was rewarded with the sight of an empty food dish and a little panther asking for more. Not her normal feed time, but we can put that aside until her weight is back up to at least 13lbs.
Cat and I spent a nice afternoon in each others company. She's been a horrible beast from time to time, as the wake of traumatized vets and the fact that we're on our 4th couch will attest too. She's also been a source of delight in her fascination for sound and echoes, and ability (I am not making this up) to build things and use simple tools. But the reality is she's an older cat with diabetes and good or bad I'm also going to savor her company. She makes me happy, and the very least I can do is return the favour.