Obligatory cat digestion update

Jack and I just got back from the vet. The clinic on Central and East Parkway was kind enough to squeeze us in even though we're not regulars. I've still got a bad taste in my mouth from the last time I dealt with Eastgate, so I am happy there's a clinic closer to my apartment than way out east. Plus, four or five blocks of mewling vs. twenty minutes of it? I don't even have to explain. Also, gas prices. Etc.

Anyway, Dr. Mitchell peered in Jack's mouth, felt him up, and stuck a thermometer in his butt. I described the barf-capades and the bit of rubber and was told that even an x-ray might not show if there are any little bits of rubber in his stomach, because rubber just doesn't show up on x-rays very well. We'd have to do something fancy with barium, which is very unpleasant for everyone involved, apparently, so that would be a last resort if he keeps technicolor yawning (yes, I plan to run through every vomit euphemism in the language).

So in the meantime, we're on antibiotics to clear up any lingering yuckiness (he really enjoyed the two shots he got; they made him dance with rapture) and I've got to shove pills down his throat twice a day. I also can't feed him until late tonight. That should be the most fun part of this challenge. He just stares at me with those hungry yellow eyes. I am weak.