I went to the vet again on Friday because it looked like my stitches were coming apart, but it turns out they weren't; but the results of my biopsy came back and it wasn't the greatest news, because the nurse said that I do have a cancerous tumor which is of the "intermediate" kind, which means that it needs to be removed and that surgery could cure it if the surgeons are able to remove the whole thing; but since they can't do that kind of operation at the vet, Daddy had to make an appointment with a specialist "oncologist" veterinarian (that's a tumor-doctor) for Tuesday morning. And the oncologist has a consulting office in the "Melbourne Veterinary Referral Centre" at Essendon Airport, and they use the same facilities as the Emergency Animal Hospital where my brother Gerald spent his last days all those years ago. So I hope it doesn't bring back bad memories for my Daddy; it shouldn't, since Daddy didn't cry when he went there more recently with Pussy Galore that time that her tail got stepped on.
And I'm trying to convince my Daddy and Uncle Kevin not to worry about me, since there's nothing they can do until I meet with the oncologist; and as for me, I still feel happy and energetic, and I insist on maintaining my daily routine, which includes sitting in the sun on the stairwell:
and eating a yummy treat in the sun:
and watching the birdies:
and sitting on my Kevin pillow in the evening:
So on Tuesday the doctor will have some recommendations about what to do to me next (if anything); and until then, I'm going to enjoy the sunshine: