Thank you for your lovely thoughts and all of your prayers to the God of Cats.
I received really great news about my son when I got home from work tonight.
Apparently there isn't anything wrong with him except some rudimentary run-of-the-mill dental issues.
[I've got to get him to quit chewing tabaccy!]
Now -- in my previous report of last night I did not say anything about the cause of my anxiety about this gorgeous beast of a kitty cat!
Here is the scenario in a nutshell:
On Sunday morning I noticed that Jack was hobbling with one of his back legs off the floor. So I gave him a thorough -- leg examination. He was in no pain as I massaged his paws and stretched out his leg and kissed his nose and stuff [<-- I should be a veterinarian, huh?] So I just chalked it up to the fact that he had a few too many beers the night before, as did his father! Later in the afternoon though, I saw him do it again. The hopping bit. Again, he did not flinch when I resumed my examination of his paw. So I drank some vodka. Then, in the early evening, I noticed him sitting in an unusual position on his favorite rug. When I tried to pick him up he resisted, and when I finally got him to stand up he hobbled away and all four of his legs were simply not working right at all. He only walked a few yards away, staggering like a drunk, and then he lay down and blankly stared off into space, very unresponsive to my intense medically precise question of, "Hey buddy. What the hell is wrong with you?"
Hence, I called around until I found the nearest appointment I could make for him. I feared that he was exhibiting the initial stages of some sort of cat-disease, and requested a comprehensive analysis of his blood.
By the way, ever since his Wobbly Episode there... he has appeared normal as ever. But one can never be sure, right?
I had to get him all checked out. And this evening I returned home from work to the following phone message from Jack's doctor!
He's healthier than ten horses, apparently!
Jack will probably outlive me!