Thoth is still really, really unhappy about being stuck inside. He yowls whenever one of us leaves.
And at about nine every night, he goes back and forth from the patio to the front door, crying, to let me know he wants out.
I’ve even had to show him that doors to water heaters aren’t mystical portals to the outside.
He only stops crying when I take him up to bed.
This week, though, he’s crying AND totally freaked out.
This is Thoth, watching something intently.
His every muscle is tense.
What’s he staring at?
Anubis has turned into a demigorgon.
Thoth won’t go anywhere near him, but he will stare, trying to figure out what’s happened and whether it’s catching.
After racking up almost $2000 at the vet in the last six weeks, he wasn’t getting better, so I paid for a urethra-enlarging surgery.
He has to be coned for two weeks.
And he’s basically been subjected to bottom surgery against his will.
Meanwhile, how’s blind Graymalkin?
Absolutely fine.
