Fluffy is staying there this afternoon for tests, including a scan to try to determine what the mass is.
Even before the potential grief of losing Fluffy hit me, my first thoughts were, oh no, what do I say to mum? Fluffy is her clear favourite and they go back a long way. She is always talking to her when she she is here in the evening. I shan't be able to give mum any bad news, as her emotions are so near to the surface these days. She watched Bondi Vet the other week and poured her eyes out, even though the cat turned out ok on that. I'll have to keep it from her and hope that Fluffy hangs on ok.
Fluffy's mum died at 12, due to a tumour in her mouth. And her sister, Figs, went at the same age, from a fibrosarcoma. So I guess cancer is in the genes. She an old gal, 17 1/2 years, but it doesn't make it any easier. It just means I've known her longer. There's no such thing as a good innings, as you always want more. I'm dreading the 'oh but she's done well to get to 17' comments from well meaning people! It isn't enough, you see, I want more. I want cats to have human lifespans! She's been with me since my mid twenties. I want her there till old age!
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