Dadsy and I leave for Sydney Monday morning at 7am.
Max's appointment with the specialist is at 11:30, for blood tests and potentially an MRI.
He woke up last night crying in pain, his eyes glazed and his breath laboured.
He stopped crying but got lost under the decking.
Dad said had the vet not been 'on holiday', he probably would have put him down today.
Dadsy has warned me he might well die tonight or tomorrow morning or on the drive there.
Or we might get him there only to be told that he should be put down.
I guess whether or not we stay there will largely depend on whether or not he lives long enough to make all the tests.
Life is so unfair.