Spanky, my mom's 16-year-old cat, is going in for radioactive iodine therapy for her hyperthyroidism next Monday. I've mentioned her before; we got her when I was twelve and for many years she was my cat. I pushed for this, even offered to pay, though I'm kind of glad my dad is springing for it. I just wish my mom had been able to give her medication for a month or two so we could re-check her kidneys and make sure that reducing her blood pressure (by curing the hyperthyroidism) won't have any negative effects. But over the last few months, Spanky's lost what little weight she had -- she's about 4.7 pounds now, and while she's never been a large cat, right now she looks like a furry little mummy. We've got to do something or watch her die. I'm both annoyed that they let it go this long -- her condition was detected earlier in the year when she was showing no symptoms at all, but in the months since she's just wasted away -- and amazed that they're actually taking action and getting it done between all their trips and the holidays and everything. I hope it works. I hope she gets better and lives another five years. Even another six months. If any cat is worth it, she is.