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Tuesday, April 22, 2008

What, you didn't know that Max speaks with British accent?

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Greetings, kind citizens of the internet.  Maxwell Maximillian Maximus here, wishing to extend my sincere thanks for your kind words regarding my recent diagnosis. 

I'll not make light of my condition -- things have been difficult this past week.  Oh, not because of the cancer!  No, my fine chaps, that's not yet bothering me much, I'm happy to report.  It was the full day at the health asylum that truly turned my mood black - and to tell you the truth, friends, I'm still not fully over the trauma.   Now, the veterinary doctor is a lovely lass, but when someone comes at me with a pair of clippers, I don't know about you, but I feel compelled to react.  How could a fellow know that she just intended to give me a haircut?  For all I know, they had me confused with a poodle who was due for an appendectomy, and I'll tell you - I was having none of that.  But once we all had a glass of bourbon and laughed about the whole mess, I started to feel a bit drowsy, and the next thing I knew, I was waking up with a headache and an orange tabby in the next cage over.  Lovely old gal, she was.  A bitty chatty for my tastes, though.

In any case, while I was - shall we say, sleeping it off - the doctor took the liberty of scanning my internal organs and showing the films to my human caretaker.  It seems everything is in tip-top shape, except for a spot of lymphosarcoma in the old digestive tract.  Certainly not the best news I've heard, but let us not dwell on the negatives; I'm told that a positive attitude is of paramount importance and I intend to keep my spirits high.  Apparently my only symptom is that I've lost two pounds since January, and I tell you, these doctors can never make up their minds.  All my life they've been telling me diet this, limited portions that, and now that I've finally dropped a few inches from the old waistline everyone's got their knickers in a knot about my health. 

There's been some talk of a surgery to get a biopsy of my intestines, but I must admit that I don't much like the sound of that.   I've discussed it with my family, although, to tell you the truth, I sort of stopped listening when they started in about dollars dollars, blah blah blah; I had appointments to get to later in the evening and I don't have time for their constant blathering.  In any case, we seem to have agreed that I will get a special diet and some medication for now, and if I haven't gained any weight back within a month's time we'll reconsider that dreadful biopsy.  I was sort of hoping that my therapy would call for the eviction of that pesky ferret and his kitten-friend, but I suppose I can continue ignoring their antics a bit longer. 

So that's all for now.  I am late for my 3:00 nap, and I really must be going.  Please do accept my deepest, heartfelt thanks for your kind thoughts and words.  Ta-ta, mates! 

Cheerio, 

Max

Comments

I love Max's English accent.

Watch and wait procedures are always preferable to immediate action. I'll tell my kitties to keep their paws crossed that Max keeps his weight stable so he doesn't have to face the dreaded clippers (again) and biopsy.

Oh Max. If only everyone could understand that you are simply BETTER than them, things would be so much easier. Right?

Well, at least you make cat cancer funny!

My cat would be much ANGRIER if he were to have a blog. Much more hissing, I think.

Nice to meet you Max; I certainly hope that you get feeling better soon! Wave at that Momma of yours for me!

xox

Max, darling, keep your chin up. =)

Perhaps if you started feeding him the expensive tuna, like he ASKED YOU TO...

Tsk.

love the new format :)

You're a tough British bitch, Max.

My cat has an english accent too! Seriously, when I pretend he's talking to people (no, I'm not a crazy cat lady, I'm only 18, haha) I give him an accent. His name is Herman by the way, and he looks similar to Max, but different collar-Herman has a leopard print collar.
Good luck Max!

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