Following on from my last post about bad behaviour, the inappropriate weeing culprit has been outed.
I was working in the dining room and hear the delicate sound of tinkling. I popped into the kitchen and the only furry creature in the rom was Willow. My (usually) not so naughty tortie was the last cat I expected to be watering the kitchen floor. (Photo of the culprit below).
In May, I telephoned the vet to ask them to see Lily. They told me that they were only seeing emergencies. Stupidly, I allowed myself to be lulled into a false sense of security, rather than listening to my instincts and either insisting they saw her, or found another vet who would. I feel incredibly guilty about not doing anything at the time.
I took her a few weeks ago, and they have told me that she has a mouth tumour, and that it “probably started in May” when I telephoned them. The vet I saw told me that if she was younger they would operate.
Over the following weekend, what I had been told started to sink in, and I wondered if they were writing her off because of her age (she is 15). I spoke to the senior vet at the practice, and he asked me to take her to see him, and that there may be options, and it “might not be cancer.” The practice was closed for a week due to a COVID crisis, and then the senior vet wasn’t in for a week. We have an appointment on Tuesday of next week. It may be, of course, that the vet tells me nothing that I haven’t already been told, but Lily is bright and chatty and eating for Britain and a second opinion is definatly worth while.