On Monday night I stayed out of town and when I got home on Tuesday night I called in the cats who were not in. Thinger did not come right away, but sooner than usual I heard her calling me and she rounded the corner of the house in the back yard and came to where I was waiting for her at the door.

I knew something was wrong. She always talks to me when she comes, but this time it was a more frequent, plaintive cry and she just didn't seem right. Now, Thinger is touchy and a biter so I usually only rub her head and back and that briefly until I see if she is in the mood to be rubbed. There are cats who live here who will stretch out on their backs and let you rub your hand in their fur, up and down their bellies, but Thinger has never been one of them. But since I knew something was wrong I braved her displeasure and teeth and rubbed her all over, feeling her, and although she moved and complained she didn't try to bite or grab me, which is very unThinger.

She had a lump the size of a golf ball on her tummy. She obviously did not want me to touch it more and it seemed to maybe hurt her, so after I found it I left her alone. She did eat and drink and I watched for signs of imminent distress, in which case I would have rushed her to the emergency vet who charges a fortune for after hours mediocre service. (I think I know where Dr. Animal is working, Cathead. He immigrated.) But although not right, I felt she could wait until our own vet was open this am.

I dropped her off there before I went to work and then called to see how she was. Well, the best they could determine it was another bite by something. The vet had lanced the swelling and gotten a little infectious material out. (I'm trying not to make people sick.) But most of the lump was hard tissue and he thinks it is some kind of scar tissue from the infection and her body's reaction to some sort of venom. The lump will probably be there forever, but we are treating the infection.

Thinger now has an open, draining wound, with a wick. Has had antibiotics and anti inflammatories injected and will be on oral antibiotics when she comes home tomorrow. Little Thing, my Thingdinger, won't stay out of the woods and it would be cruel to keep her in because she revels in her freedom and exploring and observing, but oh, how does she always find the stinging, biting insects of the forest, and why does she always have such a negative reaction to everything?

So now the Thinger has four lives left and she's only three. She is such a muscle-y, tough, little broad of a cat, but apparently also very delicate. I really, really love her, so when you see a star to wish on some night, squander one of your wishes on the Thinger, for good health and long life. Thank you.

Remember, that kindness to an animal will bring its own reward.