The old boy had the operation yesterday. He is now back from the vets missing a chunk of tumour/leg. He is feeling sorry for himself. I am still feeling miffed at a total bill of c£750 from the greedy vet. The operation was a success in that most of the tumour was removed. But, there is a but.
The tumour was not benign, as originally diagnosed, but malignant and a small bit of it was too close to the veins to operate. It will grow again. We must hope that it grew as slowly as the last one in which case by the time it becomes an issue Fat Cat, as he is known, will be well past his fifteenth birthday and years of a sedentary lifestyle and over-eating may well have taken its toll anyway.
If it has not, then it is not fatal. But it would mean the loss of a leg. I am told that cats can operate quite happily on three legs and it is not exactly as if Oakley’s existence is one based on frenetic activity. If you spend three quarters of your life asleep, 20% eating or complaining that you should be eating and the other 5% either squatting in a cat litter or very occasional wandering slowly between bed/sofa and food and back again, do you really need four legs?
It is not something I wish to contemplate. But it will happen at some stage. For now I am glad that the operation is over and that Oakley is on the mend and, like me and his long term companion Tara (aka vicious cat – a total misnomer), can look forward to a large roast duck, Downton Abbey and a good rest at Christmas.
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