Bob is recovering.
Here is what I know. Bob walked up to me while we were having a little outside time. He was quite casual about it all. I don’t even know where he was with any specificity.
Bob rolled over for some belly rubs and I saw a wound in his chest about as wide as a quarter and twice as high. I just scooped him up and got him into the carrier before he could object. Call the vet who won’t be able to see him for two hours. Referred to the emergency clinic across the street who have received mixed reviews over the years. This was my first ever veterinary emergency. I’m told I’m lucky in this way.
On the way Bob made a fist, yes a fist, and punched through the wall of the corrugated-cardboard cat carrier which I shall now have to replace with a real one. Once we were at the vet, I experienced nothing but direct, efficient professionalism. He was there for eight long hours. They sent me home where I did little but fret.
It appears he acquired his wound scaling a fence.
Clearly, you do have to pay for both convenience and professional service. Oddly, I’m not having to fight to get the pills in him. He really hates the collar.
and, of course, he lost his mundane collar again. That’s five in seven months. I really am looking into buying them in bulk.