It bled a fair bit but she got a sufficient amount of the Molly Russel's
wart off. He's now sporting a giant bandage on his leg and we're $224
poorer.

The mild sedative is apparently not mild enough to wear off quickly. We
had to carry his half-awake self out to the car.

The vet thinks this warty thing will grow back but like us, she's loathe
to put him under general anesthesia. So we'll have a repeat of
tonight's procedure if we have to in a few weeks or months.

At this point his care is such a balancing act. Happy life vs. Less
happy life with some pain vs. Life with a lot of pain interspersed with
treatments that grow harder to recover from, etc., etc., etc. We'll
walk this tightrope as long as it seems fair to the old man. Despite
his rather unique and (at times) challenging personality, he most
certainly deserves a good end of life.

I think the trick always becomes how exactly we define that on his
behalf. It's not like he'll stop eating, so the barometer rests in a
different place. I'm just not sure where that is.

In the meantime he's snoozing in the back of the car and we're headed
home so he can sleep with Patrick like he always does. That's enough
for now.