Wishbone is really sick and he is in the kitty infirmary upstairs in the spare room. He got over his abcess but now he has an infection and one eye is all goopy and half closed. Plus he's blowing his coat and he's skinny, at least for him. I go in there and talk to him about life and how I wish he felt better and he rubs up against me and purrs. He really is the sweetest cat. Well, except for the murderous behaviour but that's normal.
I took him to the emergency vet yesterday and they were actually nice. I have been used to going to the mercenary after hours vet where they punish you for inconveniencing them by demanding your credit card BEFORE they even see your animal. You can come in with a half dead dog and they gotta have their lucre. Cripes. So this new place was such a relief. They were kind and inexpensive and told me I could bring him back, no charge, if he wasn't better. I'm not sure what better is but he is lying around on a fluffy cat bed with all manner of foods and beverages geared for his recovery. I am so not like him when I get sick. I get all dramatic and whine and moan. Although my father was the master of death bed scenes when he was sick. It was clear he wouldn't recover from his cold and we would be so sorry, standing around his death bed, wishing we had been nicer to him. Death by snotty nose. Maybe it's a guy thing.