Morning all.
Maurice has had quite a few visits to the vets lately, poor chap.
If you remember the poem "Whatevers the matter with Maurice?", well, that's where it started. In addition to the odd behaviour mentioned there, I noticed that he was losing weight, and though he might have hyperthyroidism, so booked an appointment at the vets.
Now, providing you grab him quickly and stuff him in the basket with the minimum of fuss (making sure all 4 legs and 1 tail are in before closing the lid) he actually travels quite well, settles down quietly and seems to enjoy the ride, particularly if the roof is down. I think feeling the wind in his whiskers makes him think he's off on an adventure.
To diagnose thyroid problems means a blood test. To say that Maurice wasn't keen on this is akin to saying that Nigel Farage is in favour of an open door policy with regard to immigration.
Maurice, friendly and affectionate though he is, does not like being held. The vet tried to hold him, I tried to hold him. He somehow manages to seem as if he has twice the usual number of limbs and to be able to move them in several directions at once. Cue entry of Evadne with her pink towel. Cue Maurice making it very plain what he thought of both Evadne and her towel.
Now although there was a lot of struggling and wriggling, there were no attempts made to either scratch or bite, so whatever made the vet think a muzzle was called for I don't know. Muzzles for cats are made of black fabric and go over the head, not just the jaws. The gimp mask muzzle was put on, the blood sample was taken. By the time it was done, Maurice was hyperventilating and his heart rate was through the roof. He was admitted and put on oxygen for an hour.
The test showed that it was the thyroid problem I suspected, so he was duly prescribed pills. (At vast expense, i.e £1.39 per tablet, when providing you have a prescription, they can be bought on line for 47p each 
)
After 4 weeks he had to have another blood test, but this time I spoke to the senior vet and said no way was he having the damn muzzle again, so between three of us we managed to get it done. Thyroid levels still too high so change the tablet dose.
On Friday I noticed a lump on Maurices' neck, so back we went yesterday. It was his lymph gland, most usual cause for it to be enlarged is infection through bad teeth or cancer. Maurice didn't want Adrian to look at his teeth, so it was decided to admit him, give him a whiff of gas and then have a look. Bearing in mind how much Maurice isn't keen on the basket, it is quite funny to see how once he was released, he mustered his dignity, stalked into the basket and sat down with his back to everyone.
In the end his teeth were fine, so a biopsy was taken from the lump. He came home yesterday with a row of stitches and enough medication to set up a small shop. He can't have one of those plastic lampshade things, as it would sit on the wound. They offered to provide a body suit, but at well over £20 I demurred. You would think they could lend you one, surely it can be laundered and re-used?
Anyway, last night I made him a natty little number from the sleeve of an old sweatshirt, and very distinguished he looks, a casual glance would lead one to think he was wearing a cravat.
Back tomorrow to check the wound, then stitches out next Wednesday.
I will be paying the bill in chunks!
anno you are very kind, you have made me 
Perhaps one day I'll get round to sorting out a blog.
Well, his nibbs seen and all ok, vet agreed that in order to cover the under jaw stitches Maurice would need either a balaclava or some sort of copy of a flying helmet (not sure if he meant to include the scarf sticking out sideways or the goggles, but either way he's not getting one) but said that the bit of cut off sweatshirt sleeve cravat was very stylish. 
Did ask if he could be allowed out, NO so another week with the kitchen window shut and Maurice's belief that we are terminally thick perpetuated
The vet asked me if I could add a couple of verses to the "Whatevers the matter" poem, so that it can be used in the waiting room to alert other clients (nearly said "patients"!) which I have duly done and emailed to him. Even managed to get the vets phone number in!
Do you think it should qualify for a discount on the ever increasing bill?
Oink flap, there goes another one! 
IMO "bum" in verse three sounds better than arse, as it it more alliterative.
"He plonks his fat bum on my book!"
What would your vet Adrian think about being named in your poem?
I think rather than just "the vet". Could you use "Adrian the vet" and still get it to scan?
It's brilliant Phoenix. You are good at this stuff.
My utterly misnamed cat Sweetie has blood tests every six months for his thyroid condition. Our nice vet takes him away and she and a nurse shave him and take the blood. When she brought him back last time she remarked that he'd been "A bit grumpy" about it. I suspect this was the understatement of the year
My dear "Maurisovitch" (extended pronunciation on first 2 bits, sort of Russian) is currently looking a bit sleeker, fur wise, probably the increased dose of the thyroid tablets.
Biopsy results not back yet, but I'm pretty sure that they will confirm what the vet and I think.
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