Manasse waddles to the kitchen on unsteady legs, having just been turned into the feline equivalent of a eunuch. He looks a fright: his fur stands up in peaks, and because he's white, the wound on his hindquarters shows up very bloody and red indeed. He can't take two steps without falling over, but I've never seen a cat more headstrong: he insisted on going to the toilet earlier, even if the effort made him puke, and now he's heading for the breakfast bowl, despite the vet's warning that he shouldn't eat or drink before tonight.
He's also not allowed to lick the wound, but how do you stop a cat from grooming?
distressed 