I took 2 hours off from work to take Max home a little earlier, rather than him having to stay at the specialty vet's all day.

The vet agreed that the bumps on his other side are fingers of the main lump. Damn it. I finally told Nora about them when we got home. Understandably, she was angry with me - it was poor judgment on my part for holding back. She's still wrung out by all the stresses we have with her health, Max's cancer and our finances. And I've been reminded that I've been neglecting her emotional needs while concentrating on Max.

Part of what upsets Nora is Max is still seeping fluids from two holes where the stitches were. The vet said that it was unlikely that they could be successfully re-stitched because the lump was growing next to one. They were willing to try something like using some pig intestine as a membrane (some sort of patch?). It would probably cost $200, but there's no guarantee it would stay. Also, even though he has a T-shirt on and can't lick that spot, it's sort of bald in that area. The vet says the seepage is essentially protein loss, which is something he can't afford to lose. I wish we could use New-Skin, but it's not for oozing wounds.

One of the animal communicators I've been in contact, says she managed to contact Max, but hadn't gotten much info from him, beyond his being tired (he'd just come back from the vet), and he refers to the lump as "the thing". I'm seriously considering contacting another communicator, Val Heart, because she can supposedly get more info with her methods…

Saturday, we resolved to do something fun to get out of the house and take our minds off our troubles. So, we had a very pleasant drive along the Illinois roads near the Mississippi. We stopped for lunch in a small Missouri town on the way back, talked about a few things we need to work out and bring us closer together. I have to admit, though, Max was still in the back of my mind.

We rented some DVDs in the evening, when we returned from our drive. One of them was "The Business of Fancy Dancing". It wasn't what we expected (thinking it was a documentary about American Indian fancy dancing), but it turned out to be pretty good, anyway. It ended with a very haunting piece called "Osinilshatin" sung by Michelle St. John during a funeral scene.  It was composed by Jennifer Elizabeth Kreisberg.  It sort of set the tone for the end of our evening. We both lay down on the floor so we could reach under the chair where Max has been spending a lot of time recently, so we could stroke him. We were both in tears as he purred readily, as if maybe to reassure us in spite of how he felt. I wondered aloud what it was about this cat that has touched our hearts so deeply that our hearts were breaking.