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In feline years, Roscoe is 16, which makes him the equivalent of 80 in human years, which helps explain the trouble he is having...
Lately we've discovered he has not always been using his litter box, which is on the second floor, but has found a secluded spot on the first floor. We thought he might have a bladder infection, but it turns out...
oh, let's save the diagnosis for tomorrow's picture.
PS: Couldn't find the cat carrier when I brought him in Saturday morning, so I improvised, emptying books out of a box.
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