Just got back from the vets. Dr. Whitley, our doctor here wanted to make sure there were no miraculous foot regrowths before we scheduled the sugery. Sadly, there weren't. If anything, it's gotten worse. He is scheduled for next Tuesday, July 17th. We have to bring him in Monday afternoon and get a few x-rays and blood work to help specialize his anesthesia and give him the best chance at surviving this. They will also put him on IV fluids overnight to pre-emptive strike his blood pressure.
I cried the entire time through the consultation. Luckily, Chester gave up being scared to console me once that started. He sat on the table nicely and face-rubbed mine while I blubbered on. The doctor is worried too, but none of us have choices in this. I think she would rather us bring Chester back to WSU so she didn't have to worry so much. We would too. Not that Dr. Whitley isn't a great vet. I've never had to deal with her surgery skills and we haven't been a patient there very long, but she's always sure to tell us what she is and isn't comfortable doing. And she answers my 8 bazillion questions patiently. BUT nothing compares to the service we had at WSU. I think our main affection for them is how obviously they adored Chester. You always want to bring your baby to someone who cares about them as much as you do. You know they will fight their hardest for them. Dr. Might, our surgeon there calls us literally to this day to find out how the little brat is doing and give us medical advice for free. At one point during the recovery there when Gyan and I were sick of sleeping in the car/in a random park, he offered us his home and shower. Nicest. People. Ever.
I digress. Gyan is in Ottawa this week. I leave for a wedding on Saturday, and then Gyan leaves again at the beginning of August. We wouldn't have any time to go down there until mid-late August and his toes need to go now.
I will actually be in Michigan for the wedding of one of my oldest and dearest friends when Chester undergoes his surgery. I don't think that helped my waterworks. So I will leave Gyan in charge of updating you all when I leave. You can all blame Alyssa for having to schedule her wedding to the guy she's been with since diapers during Chester's crisis time. I know I do. (Just kidding Alyssa, I know you will already feel bad and it's clearly not your fault.)
Besides his foot, Chester is still looking good. He's gained another .1kg which brings him up to +.4kg since the last surgery. He's now a bonafide heavy-weight. Actually he's right on target with his weight, but most of the time we've had him he's been underweight so he feels huge to us. He's eating normal amounts. His personality is almost back to normal, and he walks and runs ok. Still a huge amount of limping, but he doesn't seem to avoid walking.
He's been on antibiotics for an entire month now and I hate it.
1. I hate giving it to him and having him sulk for an hour after. and
2. I straight hate that he's been on antibiotics for so long. I would never allow myself to take that many and I'm sure cats have just as many symbiotic bacteria that humans do. But the last thing we need is for a full blown infection to pop up right before surgery, so on it he stays. Are there prebiotics for cats? I know nothing. Plus, I feel like by now the infectious bacteria has got to be building up resistant strains. Thank god Chester is the only pet here or I'd have him in quarantine. I don't know if you all have picked up on this yet, but I'm increasingly neurotic when it comes to this little guy. Poor Gyan.
Since having his lungs fixed, Chester has picked up many new yoga moves to sleep in. Before he always without fail slept on his belly with his legs tucked under him. Now he sleeps curled in balls, with his hind foot behind his head, stretched out along the entire part of the couch I need, or some fancy unexplainable position. It makes my heart happy that he can sleep like a normal cat again. I'm sure it makes his heart happy to be in the place it's supposed to be again. (Before they couldn't even find it in x-rays.)
But, above all, his sleeping preference is on top of me, at the very least curled up in my armpit. But if he has any say, it will be on my neck or face.
Last night I had a dream that I was pregnant and it was really hard to move around or lay down not-awkwardly. I awoke to find that it was just a 4.7kg sleeping cat on my belly. I find it ironically appropriate since he causes the worry and work of a child these days. I also woke up later to my door to my apartment being wide open. I have no idea what happened there, but everything is still here and no one was around. Chester was nestled safely on my shoulder, so I doubt it was him. Good thing Vancouver has negative crime. The Michigander in me definitely got up and locked it, however. 
Anyway. That's all the Chester news I have. I should probably get off this before he sits on the keyboard and tells you everything he's feeling in code anyway. Maybe one day when you're all ready. But I don't think that is today.

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    Chester is a 4ish year old orange tabby with a huge medical bill and an equally huge ability to love. His attitude is no small entity either.
    He goes by the names Chester, Cheetoh, Cheese, Cheeselog, Whiney-pants, and Scarf Cat, among others.


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