Epilogue

I spoke with the second vet, the one who thought the first vet's diagnosis was wrong. She got the results of Princeton's blood work (read by a pathologist), and apparently the first vet was right. Princeton had lymphoma, in this case a cancer of the bone marrow, and he would have died of it no matter what medicines we did or didn't give him. So I guess I can stop wishing I'd done some other things differently, and envision him as Suzanne described to me: in happy kitty heaven right now, back to his old prince tony self.