Anyway, they told mom and dad I was doing probably about as good as I was going to, and I could begin recuperating at home. Mom and dad were to call if things weren't working out, and last night mom typed up a schedule for the dizzying array of medications they sent me home with, most of which even I can't pronounce.
I was so glad to be back home, even though they took great care of me at the hospital. Last night mom and dad slept out on the futon so I could sleep with them, which I haven't been able to do for a long time because of my stinky litter-tracking habit of late. They've been keeping the bedroom door shut tight so they don't wake up surrounded by crunchy clumps and nuggets. You see, for some reason I have developed the bad habit of not covering my stuff, and when I step in it on the way out of the box it always ends up all over the place.
Ahhh, it sure is good to be back home.