So he's home. His belly looks like a snapshot of Frankenstein's creature, all stitches keeping him together and all the bruising showing through the clipped coat. But at least he is here, getting comfy on his own bed and surrounded by those who love him, including Victoria whom, I must admit, I thought would need psychological rehab, had he stayed away a few more days. They showed me what they extracted and I was very nearly unable to comment. The radiator cap was so frigging big, I even wondered whether he had absorbed it through his skin somehow. There is no way I would be able to swallow that thing if I were paid to do it and my esophagus is far bigger than his. The immediate trauma is over; I should be able to re-gain my wits by the end of today.
