Sophie smiled and shook her head. “Nope. He’s just got a little plumbing issue.”
Mochi sneezed indignantly, spraying a fine mist of saline across the table. He looked affronted, as if to say, How dare you unclog my dignity. blocked tear ducts in cats
One afternoon, a neighbor came over and saw Mochi asleep in a sunbeam, his face streaked with brown. Sophie smiled and shook her head
That night, as Sophie scrolled through photos of pristine, dry-faced show cats, Mochi climbed onto her chest. He kneaded her collarbone with his claws (ouch) and pressed his damp, stained cheek against her chin. A tiny tear—real or saline-flushed, she couldn’t tell—rolled onto her skin. He looked affronted, as if to say, How
Mochi, unbothered, blinked slowly. His right eye was clear and bright, a perfect amber marble. But the left one wept a constant, silent tear that matted the white fur around it into a brownish crust. She’d wipe it away with a warm cloth, and within an hour, the stain would be back.
Sophie first noticed the problem when she went to kiss Mochi’s forehead. Instead of the usual soft, dry bump of fur, her lips met a damp, rusty streak beneath his left eye.
Back at the vet, Dr. Lian flushed the ducts again. This time, the saline didn’t come out of his nose. It backed up, dribbling from the corner of his eye like a tiny, stubborn waterfall.