Our beloved cat Emma is just not herself lately. She's eating less, and as a result, activity at the other end has dropped off sharply as well. She's lost weight, quite a bit. She's also broken her last remaining fang, and at 17 years old the vet doesn't want to operate to remove the root because they're afraid she won't survive the surgery (she broke her other fang about ten years ago, and that one's remains were extracted; she was born without her upper ones -- swear to god).

Being totally in love with Emma, we've decided to take Emma to see another vet in Longmont for a second opinion and really just a second set of eyes on the old gal. She's our kid. As I type this, she's sitting on the floor, sort-of listing to one side, half asleep. This is not good.