The Bugger-cat had his ultrasound today – much to his disgust. Not only was he not allowed to eat for the whole morning before the trip, The Husband bundled him into the cat carrier and put him in the car (I’m told he was quite operatic about it), and then The Husband couldn’t tell the difference between Bugger-cat’s “I don’t like it” wail and his “I gotta pee” wail. Which led inevitably to The Husband trying to clean out a peed-upon cat carrier while preventing Bugger-escapology.

I suspect The Husband was rather relieved to arrive at the clinic.

On the plus side, the Bugger-cat does not have a tumor. He has some evidence of inflammation, but the medication we’ve been giving him seems to have been settling him down. I guess he’s going to be having nasty things down his throat for the foreseeable.

We’ll find out in a few days what the regular vet clinic has to say: they don’t do the ultrasounds themselves, so we had to go elsewhere to get that done.

But we’re both relieved, and hoping we can get to convincing his Buggerness that the litter boxes are safe places to poop.