The cat is doing relatively well, I think. Considering.
I've seen him stand up on his own, though he prefers not to, as it is obviously a painful process. He is eating regularly and eliminating irregularly.
I am becoming adept at shooting a gluey medication down his throat every 12 hours, which prevents him bleeding out his gut. For best results: get cat between knees, grasp head firmly, and thrust syringe between teeth. When mouth opens in annoyance, fire! Then clean up the drooly glop that drips down his chin and onto his chest as he schmecks it.
I have also been charting his reckless spending habits. He started out in Ottawa, a frostbitten mangy stray brought in off the streets in the bitter Eastern winter. That cost him something. Then he snagged Rachelle's sweater in the animal shelter which led to years of pampering and relative safety. When we moved to Victoria, he somehow became very ill and just about bought it (possibly pancreatitis). There was a heavy fine levied on that transaction. And now this.
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