The poor little guy has a catheter and an IV, and a blue "satellite" collar that makes him look like a dork. He was not happy.
Nevertheless, he let me pet him, and he even hissed at me when he got tired at my petting. Since this is his usual behavior, I felt very relieved. After that, he allowed me to touch his little head again without complaint.
I have been told that if he continues to improve, he could be coming home as early as tomorrow. They just want to make sure that the bloodclots in his bladder do not produce a blockage.
Damn. Between Scandal, kerfufel at work, and bad news to other people right and left (including Terry Pratchett being diagnosed with Alzheimer's), this day has officially sucked.
And that's it, I am going to bed now.
In the words of Scarlett O'Hara, tomorrow will be another day.
I just hope it's a better one.
