Poor little Max has been suffering, bless him. Everything was fine until Monday night, but he was limping quite badly when I got home from work and couldn’t put any weight on one of his paws at all.
His leg was obviously painful, but he seemed otherwise fine, and I wasn’t too worried until I phoned up the vet first thing yesterday morning, where the receptionist, upon hearing my description of the problem, said, “you should bring him in as soon as possible — he might have been hit by a car.”
She then berated me for not coming in with him straight away and generally made me feel like the worst cat owner in the world.
Anyway, it turned out that he had an abscess in his leg. He’s now had it removed, or lanced, or whatever you do to abscesses, and the vet has prescribed tablets to prevent against infection. “It’s easy to give tablets to a cat,” he assured us, “you just open the mouth and put the pill in.”
He doesn’t know Max like I do. But I’m happy to do it, because I love that cat. After all, abscess makes the heart grow fonder. (Ho ho!)