This is a much happier story.
We also took Morgan the Ferocious Monster to the vet last week. He’s also quite ancient, well over seventeen. About a year ago he developed some digestive problems, so I switched his food and completely quit feeding him any human food whatsoever. Morgan was happy with half of that plan, and rather irate about the other half, but it solved his problems for a year. But lately the digestive issues have returned, and he’s gotten skinny, though still active and eagerly eating, so I hauled him in too.
I brought in a carrier, and explained to the vet that Morgan hadn’t been to the vet in years because he’s a purely indoor cat and that he does not deal well with vets. I described the symptoms, and she told me a likely diagnosis, and that they’d need bloodwork to confirm.
I let Morgan out of the carrier and he emerged, blinking. The vet and the tech petted him and told him he was a pretty boy. The cat wasn’t happy, but he seemed calm enough. I could see the vet wondering why I didn’t bring this perfectly sweet cat to the vet.
Then they started to examine him.
Zero to buzzsaw in no time flat!
Hissing, growling, all claws and teeth engaged. I don’t think he actually drew blood on anyone, but not for lack of trying. They had to sedate him to draw blood. (While he was out they trimmed his claws and some matted fur: Morgan is not big on being groomed either.)
The vet’s prediction was right: hyperthyroid, which is readily treatable with medication. The malt-flavored liquid is in the mail. I asked for not-pills, for reasons that should be obvious. Morgan is in otherwise excellent health for his age, and the new meds should straighten him right out.
Still no people food though, poor thing.