Duncan tested negative for hyperthyroidism, so now we’re treating him for irritable bowel syndrome. If he responds well to the treatment, then that’s probably what he’s got. If not, we’ll be looking at lymphoma, which is a kind of cancer. (It killed my last cat, Flea, but he was 19 years old. Duncan’s only 11.)
I’m giving him an antibiotic/anti-inflammatory pill twice a day, and a B-12 injection once a week. So far he’s the Best Patient in the Whole Entire World. The vet warned me that the pills are very bitter and I should try to prevent him from actually chewing them because he’d never eat another one if he ever tasted one. But so far he’s had four of them, and he chews them up and swallows them like they’re treats. (I do wrap them in pill pockets first, but still.) As for the injection, he didn’t even flinch.
I think he’s feeling better, too. A bit happier. A bit sprier. Speaking of spry, check out this video. I was just recording it for the bird sounds (they love music), but I happened to catch some impressive Duncan action at about the one-minute-15-second mark.
I worry about that little bird sometimes. Usually he’s asking for it, but as you can see, sometimes he’s just minding his own business, eating the mail, and not pestering anybody.
You’d think the poor little guy would be petrified, living with predators, but he loves it. He’s a daredevil and a tease, and there’s nothing he likes better than the thrill of being stalked, hunted and chased. But one of these days, I fear his luck will run out.
He even brings out the predator in Rosie! She hasn’t lunged yet, but she stares at him so intently,. and she quivers with interest. Naturally this hasn’t escaped Oboe’s notice. He actually flies down and lands on the open door of her crate, and whistles at her.