Well, we just heard from our kitty oncologist, 
and it's not good news for li'l Steve.  The 
lymphoma, unfortunately, is winning.  Since we 
don't want to continue putting him through 
increasingly tougher (and correspondingly 
harsher) chemo therapies with little real hope 
of success, we're having one more dose of his 
current treatment done tonight, one more chest 
tap to drain off fluid, and we'll bring him home 
one more time.

Our vet, bless her, is willing to make a house 
call when he starts to look uncomfortable again, 
so that his last memory won't be a crate in the 
car.

Until then, it's fresh chicken, inviting laps, 
and all the catnip he can roll in.  It's tough 
to believe how much this hurts, since we've been 
trying to mentally prepare for the possibility 
for weeks, but I guess there are some things 
that you just can't reduce to rationality.

Many, many thanks for all the posts and well 
wishes -- I'm the sort of person who tends to 
eat and look at cels when I'm stressed or 
bummed, so the parade of determination-n'-
confidence scans was indeed a mood boost.

Better for me than, say, eating a whole pie, 
too.  Heh.

I know I've said this before, probably a hundred 
times already, but if there's a better, more 
thoughtful group of people on the web, I've yet 
to meet them.  No matter how distant some of you 
are in the world, you're as good of friends as 
if you were right here, sitting in the basement 
of Casa de Evil, watching anime with the local 
girls.  Thanks to all of you, for being there.