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The pusscat is back. The incompetent vet only suggested a liver biopsy after day 5; she already knew it was a liver problem from day 2 but chose to play the hit-and-miss game, trying out a range of treatments that didn't work costing us our life savings.

We couldn't go through with the biopsy - no cash! We stopped short of putting him to rest and luckily we did because he perked up, allowing us to bring him home. He looks much better now but we still don't know what's wrong with him. That motherfucking cunt vet put him on a cocktail of medications and he is starting to regain appetite which is comforting.

But how long before he becomes too ill to be saved again? This is a form of mental torture; I feel we are delaying his eventual euthanasia at a time when I'm already fragile from uni amongst other things. As long as the cat continues to eat and purr I console myself he's alright, but at the back of my head I'm already preparing myself for a return visit; hopefully that will happen in many years, not weeks.