Admittedly we were lax in getting Bink to the vets. It’s been a good couple weeks of lost appetite and weight along with excess shedding and general malaise that we’d been hoping would somehow automagically correct itself, but this week Susan and I finally agreed that an animal hospital visit was long overdue and we took him there this morning.

The good news is that his temperature’s normal, his pulse’s strong and his respiration’s fine, but it was clear to the doctor that Bink was in some sort of pain and thus suggested going inside via an X-ray to which we readily agreed.  When that came back it was put up on the lightboard and the first thing the doctor said was “He has a bullet.”

Susan and I pretty much simulataneously said, “He has a what!?” I’d never heard that term used to describe any type of illness or medical condition before.

“Yes, he has a BB… right there,” and the vet pointed to the bright round circle near what I guessed was one of Bink’s leg bones:

bb1.jpg

 bb2.jpg

An actual BB pellet,  as in one fired from a BB gun. With intent to harm.

Son of a bitch!

The good news is that according to the vet Bink’s been carrying the projectile around for years (maybe as far back as the mid/late-90s when Susan lived in South Pasadena and Bink was much more an outside cat than he’s been these last couple years) and that where it’s lodged strictly in the muscle near his left hip it’s not doing any harm or damage.

My first impulse was to want it taken out, but before I could say that the vet said that since everything’s healed around it the pellet would be best left alone.

Son of a bitch! 

I did a pretty good job of putting out of my mind how much I would enjoy ripping the tongue from whoever the sadist was that deliberately would do such a thing because the vet had other more pressing matters to elaborate on in regards to Bink’s deteriorated condition. There was some concern about Bink’s enlarged liver and suggested a blood test would help in determining what was going on there; again we agreed. But other than that the doc was pleased to report that everything was fine with his bladder/urinary tract. Digestively though, he pointed out the outline of a large hairball in Bink’s stomach that was going nowhere and indicated the cat was also dealing with some heavy duty constipation.

In the end (no pun intended) an enema was performed and at this point we’ll hopefully be returning to bring a flushed-out Bink back home in a couple hours. Results of the blood test will be known on Monday and we’ll go from there.