Mork grew a lump on the side of her face last week. Thinking it was a tumour I started thinking about what kind of kitten to get. Then it popped and became a horrific, growing, oozing sore.
Time for a trip to the vet.
Verity found this rather exciting and told the vet her life story in an unpunctuated stream of consciousness ("My, you are quite the talker, aren't you"), while the vet poked around.
The prognosis is a double puncture wound - the black cat over the road is the suspect, although I guess it could have been a green mamba - with a stupid collar, regular bathing and a course of antibiotics.
She is also supposed to be under house arrest, but she is pretty determined to get out and dismantled the cat flap yesterday in a successful bid. She only isn't allowed out because she might throttle herself with the collar, so I figure we should let nature run its course and work on that kitten shortlist just in case it ends badly.