SOMETHING IS WRONG — BUT NOT WITH THE CAT
I examined him thoroughly.
Healthy coat. Stable heart rhythm. Calm breathing. No signs of neurological issues.
But when Carmen shifted in her chair, Marcos’ ears flicked instantly. His gaze locked onto her face.
Concern.
“Does he wake you at the same time every night?” I asked.
“Yes. Almost always between three and four.”
“And before that, do you sleep deeply?”
“I take my pill at eleven and I sink into something heavy. Then he pulls me out of it.”
“How do you feel when you wake?”
“Terrible. Head heavy. Heart racing. Dry mouth. Sometimes I can’t breathe well. I put a pill under my tongue and go to the sofa. After twenty minutes it passes.”
I didn’t like that description.
Racing heart. Breathlessness. Same hour every night.
I leaned back.
“I’m afraid the main patient here isn’t the cat.”
She blinked. “What?”
“Marcos is fine. What’s not fine is what’s happening to you.”
She stared at me.
“You think he’s waking me because something is wrong?”
“I think he may be reacting to changes in your breathing or heart rhythm. He doesn’t know medical terms. He only knows you’re not okay.”
“So… he’s saving me?”
“I can’t prove it,” I said carefully. “But the pattern is too consistent. You need tests. Cardiac. Respiratory. Don’t mention nerves. Say clearly: ‘My cat wakes me every night and I feel unwell.’”
She sat very still.
Then she nodded.
“All right. I’ll go.”
