“Meow.”  My cat woke me up. I am forty, rich, and happy. I have a comfy bed, a mansion, my own advertising company, my own limo and driver, my own private jet, and a private island with a private yacht to take me there. I am living the suite life. When Bob woke me up, I had been dreaming that I was sleeping in a comfy bed in a mansion on a private island.  I looked past Bob’s meowing face at the spires of New York City and leafy Central Park.  Bob smelled kind of funky, like waste.  Everything else was tidy and neat. I wondered why my cat smelled so bad with the house smelling great.

After cuddling, I went downstairs to make some eggs and cereal, and to feed Bob. He ate all his food but didn’t drink his water.

“Come on Bob. Drink your water.” Finally I gave in. I gave him his favorite drink: milk. He didn’t drink that either. Bob whined. He whined again but much louder. Suddenly Bob fainted. I paced around, racking my brains for a solution, when Bob barfed in his sleep. It smelled fishy. I called the vet.

“Dr.Leroy! My cat is sick. Help me.”

“Come to my office.”

Bob and I went to his office. It was light blue with pictures of animals all over it. It also smelled like water and medicine. Then the vet came in and said Bob may have a disease known as “Arthiheliusmonstrorious”. It affects his brain and destroys the body on the inside.

“Do you know how Bob got it?”

“Has Bob been near any sick person?” Dr. Leroy asked.

“Yeah. My friend came over and he was sick. He coughed on Bob.”

“There you go,” Dr. Leroy remarked, flatly.  “Bob has a high chance of being diagnosed with Arthiheliusmonstrorious.”

When I heard that I was devastated. Everyone in town heard about the cat. I spent tons of dollars to find top doctors but none of them could do anything. After that I spent more money on advertising so that more people would be aware of Arthiheliusmonstrorious, so as to help in the search for the cure.  A few weeks passed and Bob didn’t get any better. I started to think the worst: that Bob might die. Bob stopped eating. Some of his white hair turned gray.

I tried to be with Bob as much as I could. One day I followed him to the bathroom. I saw him drinking from a leak at the back of the toilet. I called Dr. Leroy right away and told him the scene I just witnessed. When Dr. Leroy heard about the toilet drinking, he immediately jumped in his car and raced to my suite.  Looking at the leak, he shook his head in wonder.  After he had taken samples and done testing, he found that Bob was suffering from an odd type of dysentery.  It turned out that Bob had contracted the virus from drinking in the toilet. I felt so relieved but so embarrassed because I didn’t see that and think about that. But now we knew that if he really had had Arthiheliusmonstrorious he would have died because there is still no cure.

I don’t care that I wasted money. I was just glad that Bob was going to be okay. He already has a short life and I didn’t want it to get shorter. I hope that Bob will never get sick again.

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