More Padfoot (Sorry)

The news I was expecting about my beautiful boy Padfoot came yesterday.
The vet phoned to say that the preliminary biopsy results had come through and they showed he had a virulent cancer in his chest cavity. The cancer is advanced and, having re-examined the scans and consulted the senior surgeon, the vet said the tumour was too close to his heart and lungs to be operable - the risk of severing a major blood vessel was just too great and it would be almost impossible to tie off others after the knife had done its work.
Sally, for she is the vet, is now awaiting the detailed biopsy results so that we can decide how to proceed. Basically, there are two options. He can start chemotherapy or we can just leave nature to take its course. Again, I think I know what the decision will be. I have witnessed chemotherapy first hand - not only does it hardly ever work in advanced cases, it makes the poor patient so incredibly sick and unhappy during the treatment.
So, there we are. Pad and I are back to where we were a couple of months ago.

It never rains, only pours, so they say, and true to form there was another mini crisis just hours after Sally phoned through with the news. It was tipping it down outside and it was dark when I let the dogs out into the garden to do the things they have to do and brave Pad, bless him, managed to haul himself to his feet and follow them. I left them all to their business and 15 minutes later called them back inside. I had counted them out but when I counted them in again there was no Pad. I called and I called and I called and I suspected he must have been at the far end of the garden, behind the trees, so I went out in search of him with a torch. It was then that I heard a whimper and the sound of splashing in water. I turned and shone the torch on the pond to find Pad had fallen in the deep end - more than 3ft - and was struggling to keep his head above the water.
I ran to him and managed to haul him out, over wires around the edge designed to keep the heron at bay, and carried him inside absolutely drenched to the skin. He immediately went into shock and, coupled with his soaking, began to shiver violently and his teeth wouldn't stop chattering.
The very-soon-to-be ex-Mrs Pither and I then began a frantic rescue operation, towelling him down as quickly as we could while blasting him with her hair dryer. We put the central heating on full and carried him into the lounge to put him on his temporary bed there but still he couldn't get warm. So, despite the house being like a furnace, I lit the fire in the grate. Eventually, the shivering and the teeth chattering subsided, the shock faded and he dried out and began to get warm. Just then, the next door neighbour came round to say that there must be a crack in our grate or chimney flue as smoke from our fire was billowing into his lounge next door!!!! What a great night!


Drying out in front of the fire - ever had one of those days?


Anyway, when the fire turned slightly more smokeless the alarm next door eased and Pad and I were left to cuddle on his bed - where I awoke at 5am, just in time to go to work! To say it has been a tough week is an understatement. Still, WE'RE still here! Pad is comfortable, he still does not appear to be in any pain, although his cough is troubling him and he is drinking excessively, and he is eating well. Life goes on and, as I have had said before, Pad is going to be warm, cosy, well fed and loved a great deal in whatever time we have left.

Thanks to everyone for the kinds words and inquiries about my boy - and I'm sorry to bang on about him all the time but it is important to me and is all I can think about these days. I am less than active replying to all your comments, I know, but rest assured I read and appreciate everything said. X