I am Groot!

I am a year and a half old and live in Philly. (BTW, my parents say Chubby's is way better than Delassandros if you want a cheesesteak. I'd agree because the Chubby's ones smell better.)

Mommy calls me Baby Groot and sings me the Baby Shark song but puts my name there instead of Shark. It's really annoying.

On Halloween, my parents came home from shopping for us cats and the kids in costumes. (The kids didn't get their treats, though.)

It was around 1730, and Mommy sat down on the couch, and I came up to the arm of it. She said hi to me and I put my paw up to my face and keeled over unto the TV dinner tray.

(I hadn't been feeling well, and they had made an appointment for me to see the regular vet the following Monday because that was the first available. Mommy and Daddy are used to me being sick. I was a sick kitten, and they called me Groot the Gerbil because I was so tiny but had a big belly when they adopted me. Mommy switched my vets because they just could never figure out what was wrong except for something called Giardia. I was such a sick kitten. Mommy learned on her own to put needles in my back and give me fluids because I had so much diarrhea and wouldn't eat after a vet said, "Sometimes these kittens just don't make it." I did, and because of me, she started fostering kittens while she was home from an injury with her back from being a medic. Daddy helps with the kittens, too. There aren't any new friends now, though, because I can't be vaccinated and was due this month. I'm glad because some had these worms with rings, and they would meow, but Mommy wouldn't let me play with them. It made me sad.)

Mommy ran out of the house after she screamed to the car. Daddy came out with the keys because you can't start a car without keys, and he also saw me go down from the kitchen.

They drove me to the Emergency Vet, who took blood from me and looked at my tummy. He said I have fluid pockets and that my labs (which I thought were dogs because Daddy wants one, but Mommy says no because of their shifts at work) pointed to FIP.

(Mommy was really sad because the one foster, Frodo, was five weeks old and had that. He didn't come home.)

The vet told Mommy and Daddy to contact the FIP group on Facebook. She finally found the right one, the FIP Warriors. She said there are many scamming groups, like Taylor Swift ticket groups.

The following Sunday, Mommy met with some awesome people who helped me get my first medication. They are friendly, she said, and have big cats that look like me!

Since then, Mommy has been giving me shots, and Daddy works lots of nights for overtime for my medicine.

I have been gaining weight and getting alot stronger! I meow and purr now, which I never did. It even scares me!

I can chase my brothers and sisters around the house and make a mess of my mom's yarn. She isn't too happy, but it's okay, she said. At least I'm getting better.

My brothers Drax and Odin aren't too happy, though. I decided to climb the cat tree now and take their perches. I never did that before. They don't kick me off, so they take their turn and share like Daddy told them to do.

I don't like my shots but I get LOTS of Churus afterwards. Mommy says they are my Frank's Hot Sauce, whatever that means. Mommy said it was shot 25 today, on November 30th. It's because I know what that means.

I'm glad that the FIP Warriors are helping me, and I hope one day all the sick cats can get better so we all can have fun, our families will be happy, and we will get to eat lots of Churus and Weruva Gravies.
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