A bad morning yesterday. Herbie's been coughing the last couple of nights, and yesterday he wouldn't eat his breakfast. He wanted to come out for a walk, but after a couple of hundred yards, he turned for home. He'd had enough. Once home, he was gasping for breath, lying with his neck stretched out and back, like a swan about to fly.
I called the vets, crying, and they said to bring him right in. I've always known that secondary tumours would develop, and lung tumours are high on the list of probabilities. The new junior vet (they're the ones who have to work weekends) listened to Herbie's chest, took his temperature, then said "There are a lot of respiratory infections around at the moment. Let's try antibiotics first, rather than go for a chest x-ray."
Twenty-four hours later, Herbie's breathing is fine, he is bright and lively, and wants all his meals and everyone else's meals too. Yesterday I was so convinced that I was taking him on his last trip ever, that now I feel silly. We have to go back to the vets tomorrow for a check-up, nd I'm going to have to apologise for crying all over their nice clean surgery.
PS A big hello to Jenna and her blog - hope the treatment goes well!