Yesterday was Raleigh’s turn at the veterinary hospital. The purpose of his visit was just to check his mouth’s progress. It has been good, and his prescription of Prednisolone has been halved: one pill every second day. This will continue for a fortnight, and then he will be re-assessed.
This is a positive development, as you may imagine. Because of Peachy’s trouble getting rid of his stomatitis, there is always the chance that it will never completely vanish, or that it will recur if not treated on a regular basis. There are cats who live contented lives while receiving a small dose of steroids now and then. I am pleased with the results of Raleigh’s treatment.
I am pleased with his progress in other ways, too. Terrified of every sound and movement at the hospital, once Raleigh returned home, he scurried about for a minute or two, fearfully. Then I mentioned that it was dinner-time, and he trotted over to wait, impatiently, for his meal, of which he ate everything. Afterward, he waited, impatiently, for me to sit on the couch with my tea, so that he could lie on my lap. There, he fell asleep.
While my ugly spaniel would rather die than go to the hospital, life becomes good again almost immediately upon his return home. He still takes fright easily, and I must watch how I approach him at times, but he has come a long way from the constantly scared little creature I first brought to the cosy apartment. I have no idea how he feels about his life right now, but I like to think it is an improvement on what it once was.