Poor old Harry.
He had his fatty lump removed this afternoon - no not his head, but the one on his chest, and now he is just standing and whining with a pitiful expression on his face.
I rang the vet on call and he advised a crushed paracetamol, but as yet he's not ready to lie down and rest.
I can't see myself having a great deal of sleep tonight, Florence Nightingale remarked-
I shall keep you all posted - hopefully another 24 hours he will be take to his bouncy self!
Look away now if you are at all squeamish.
Saturday update: Patient is much improved, has even looked for cats out of the window. Managed to force down a Cadbury's chocolate finger.