Well, not everything’s goin’ my way…poor Ben’s mouth hasn’t healed as much as it should have. A quick swab would indicate that cancer’s unlikely, a biopsy would require trauma to both cat and wallet, so the vet’s giving him a run of steroids. If it’s a particular type of disorder, the name of which I’ve already forgotten, the steroids will clear it up right away–it’d be weird for them to be in the mouth rather than lips, but god knows, animals are strange. And if it doesn’t clear up, then…well, we’ll figure it out. I have immense faith in my vet, and I would cheerfully bankrupt myself for Ben.*
Meanwhile the big fella’s now needing even more meds twice a day, so he’ll be getting the Death From Above treatment a lot more than he’d like. (Thank god Kevin was around this morning–Ben was Not In The Mood, and became a two man operation.) Poor guy.
Fortunately other than the mouth thing, he’s healthy, apparently happy, beating up Angus regularly, and so seems to be doing well.
*Well, perhaps not CHEERFULLY, but damnit, he’s only five, he’s healthy as an ox, and he’s my buddy.