Wednesday morning I walked out of the shower to hear the sound of crunching. It took all my willpower not to let out a cheer of relief, which would surely have distracted her from the all-important task of eating. After nine days of being force fed, having three pills stuffed down her throat twice a day, and worrying endlessly, Tangerine is finally eating on her own again.

The good news is that she is eating, and I no longer have to sit on the floor and undertake the agonizingly slow task of stuffing gobs of baby food into her mouth. The bad news is that the only thing she will eat is the food that may have been responsible for her sickness. The problem is that we still don't really know what happened. The vet and suspected irritable bowel, but it was never confirmed. Blood tests, fecal samples, x-rays all gave little or no information.

At least she is finally getting better, but I cannot help but still worry a little. This is the second time in as many years that she has scared us with some unknown illness which causes her to lose weight and her appetite and turns her intestinal tract into a war zone. The last time, we caught her having a seizure. This time I think we caught it before it got that bad. Next time we may not be so lucky.