Dec. 25, late at night- Rochester eats something he shouldn't have. We think it's a toy mouse he got for Xmas, which he ripped into pieces to nosh on.
Dec. 26, 3 AM- Start of marathon puke-fest that continues for three days. Two vet visits, two sets of inconclusive x-rays, whole lots of drugs and subcutaneous fluids. He acts more like himself each day, but he can't keep food down and isn't using his litter box. Looks like the only recourse is to open him up and make sure nothing is blocking his digestive tract.
Dec. 28- I drop the poor unsuspecting kitten off for surgery, and cry like a baby. Return home to sign on to work and cry more. Less than an hour later, Sephie pokes around under my work desk and retrieves the toy we thought Rochester had eaten, very much intact.
So, we don't know what Rochester ate that has caused him to puke at least three times a day since Xmas night. We don't have plants anywhere in the apartment, and the stuff that came up with his first stint of vomiting looked green and spongy/fibrous, which is why we thought he ate the little green mouse toy. I'll poke around under the bathroom and kitchen sinks to see if anything under there matches the description (I'm doubting it). I already notified the vet, and we agreed that Rochester should have surgery anyway. If he doesn't go under the knife today, he won't get another opportunity with his vet until Wednesday (everyone's off for New Year's), and if his health declined and he needed emergency surgery over the weekend, it'd be loads more expensive.
My little boy is sitting in a cage in the vet's office, awaiting surgery. I wish I was there cuddling him.