So, Philly, my big, gray, fluffy, owl-eyed cat who I rescued from death row right after my other cat, Piffle, got killed is okay.

I had discovered something rather shocking last night, though he appeared to be in no distressed. One of his claws had become what is called a ram's horn. Meaning the claw was curved around and digging into the footpads. It looked to me like it had already started.

So I called the vet this morning, after locking myself out of my apartment, and took him over right after work.

As it turned out, he had TWO claws that were ram's horning into his pads. BUT they hadn't punctured the pads (though they were threatening to.) My uncanny luck strikes again! Philly bitched the whole way to and from the vet's office. It cost me $9. And my special guy is perfectly okay.

Phew!