There was no call from the vets by morning time, so we hoped that no news is good news. I rang the vets at about 9am and was greeted with good news. Jack was alive, and considering... remarkably well. He had pulled out his medicine tubes in the night. He was sitting up, being affectionate and moving around.
We decided that the best place for him was at home in his normal surroundings, where he would be less stressed. I was delighted and promptly burst into tears! Jack was alive! He was fighting!
I went in and saw the x-rays. The pellet is quite clear. An air-gun pellet is very distinctive with its waisted middle. There was no doubt that some sick individual had taken a shot at Jack. I collected him and his inevitable pills and took him home by car. He meowed a lot on the way home, pawed my fingers through the cage door and seemed OK for most of the trip, but then went silent. I checked him and found him slumped on the floor unresponsive and breathing very heavily. He wasn't well. I skidded around and roared back to the vets. I sincerely apologise to those visitors on the roads who I flashed and used my horn on to get them out of the way.
I ran in to the vet saying that I was probably being over cautious and that he was probably just sleeping with the drugs. The vet took one look and said that I wasn't... Jack was in a bad way.
I left him there and spent the day on a park bench 100m from the surgery door with my phone in my hand in case they called.
No news was good news... After several hours I went in and checked on him. He was stable. Not up, but not down. I held his head in my hands and scratched under his chin. I think that he recognised me. He meowed a bit. I just hope that I gave him a small bit of comfort. I left him there.
We managed to go back and see him later on at around 4.30pm. He hadn't changed. He was very despondent, and hardly looked at us. He was lying down facing away from us, and wouldn't turn around. He lets out the occasional mournful meow.
We hope that he makes it through another night.
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