Poor Conrad

Conrad went to the vet yesterday, and now, in the words of some famous author whose name I can't recall, he is an ex-gentleman cat.  He also got a microchip implanted - useful for if he gets out, and required if I ever take him out of the States.

He took it pretty well, though he spent most of the evening looking like this on a chair:

Later he perked up a little and looked out the window, and now he is chasing his feathers-on-a-stick toy around the kitchen.  I think he's feeling better.

By the way, it's incredibly difficult to administer syrupy pain medicine in a syringe to an alert and unhappy cat.  I tried wrapping him in a towel, but that only made him mad.  Eventually I just dosed his food -- and since he's been acting like I've starved him for weeks, he scarfed down the medicine with no fuss.  We'll see how this evening's dose goes...