I think Scooter's skin cancer has come back. He has a skin lesion near where it had been before surgery.
He seems so fragile I hate to manhandle him to look at him. He's gotten very grumpy about being handled, although he is more than happy to nap in my lap.
Today we'll treat the spot with some Betadine and Neosporin, then cover it up with a gauze bandage so he can't scratch it with his horrible claws. (His claws are thick and long. All hell breaks loose when I trim them. He's even bitten me recently when I was making the attempt to groom him.)
I hate seeing him get so old and frail. He was such a wild and vibrant cat. Now he's a grumpy old man. He'll be 19 years old on June 21. I do hope he makes it. Keith, in his usual straightforward way, said we both know he hasn't got much longer. I know it, but I don't always want to hear it.
However, as long as he seems to have a good quality of life, I'll put up with his grumpiness. Yesterday was liver day, so I know he still has some enjoyment in life.
As an aside, I did finish my skirt, and I'll get Keith to take a picture of it today to post later.