Maid took me to see Saint Ben of Park Street Surgery. I had been feeling a bit ‘peaky’.

Dumpty at St Ben's of Park Street SurgeryOff my food, my glorious pelt was looking a bit shabby and I was just a bit down in the mouth, in fact I was actually dribbling from the mouth onto my chest fur. I didn’t even want my fave kibbles when Maid tried to hand feed me.

Maid, rather rudely put it down to old age.

Saint Ben was his usual cheeky self, commenting, quite rightly, how magnificent I looked, but a little below par. So I had the full examination, a complete moggy MOT. When he looked into my mouth, he gasped; there were lots of little white dots in my mouth, like scattered breadcrumbs. He exchanged a few words with Maid, who started crying. One of the words he used was ‘cancer’ then ‘should last till Christmas’. The crying never stopped, I think the Sainted Ben should be treating Maid for water loss from the eyes.

We got home and Maid just would not leave me alone, trying to shovel tasty titbits down my throat, all the while crying. She even lay awake all night stroking me which is rather distracting when I am trying to get my beauty snoozles in!! Humans can be so irritating!

Next day I was back with Saint Ben for a biopsy of the mouth tissue. He shaved a bit of fur off my front paw and inserted a needle. I then had the best beauty snoozles of my life!! When I woke up my mouth was sore. I was rather grumpy when Maid took me home, in fact I was rather snooty for the rest of the day no matter how upgraded the attempted pampering was. Maid still didn’t stop crying, it was all getting a bit much. I really do need to trade her in for a younger more cheerful member of staff, I wonder if any of my feline contacts have any well trained employees that they could perhaps swap with mine?


Dumpty has been drooling and looking rather under par which I thought was due to wear and tear. I took her to Ben Jones of Park House Surgery who gave her a good look at. Inside her mouth were lots of little white ‘ulcers’ which he thought were pretty much a cancer. If it was cancer, which Ben suspects it is, then there was no treatment and no operation and at most I would have her for a couple of months. I was devastated, I can’t imagine life without my stuck up, snooty, rather demanding little madam!! She had a biopsy and as I waited for the results I gave her her favourite of everything. It seemed so sad that by Christmas I may not have her.

The results came through, and I cried. I wasn’t at home to hug her. It wasn’t cancer, it was Eosinophilic Glossitis which is a kind of ‘reaction pattern’ found in cats. It is considered that most, if not all, cases may be triggered by some form of allergic hypersensitivity. The paw of suspicion firmly pointed at grass seeds. Which made sense. Recently Madam has been having a circumnavigation of the garden in the morning, waddling down the paths stopping off by the bird feeder where strange grasses have been growing from seeds picked out of the feeder by birds then dropped on the ground. Madam has been finding these grasses and their seeds rather delicious. The have all now been dug up and Madam has responded very well to steroid treatment.

All is now well at Tom Cat Towers!

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