My cat got in a back-alley fight. Lost most admirably and returned with a limp. The limp was from a bite, and the ensuing bacterial infection swelled his hind-leg to the size of a Bratwurst with a bacterial infection. I took him to the vet, where they lanced the wound and coddled Dougal better and held him for the rest of the week.
Man, did I ever miss that little guy: Abcess makes the heart grow fonder.
Now he's back, with one shaved normal-sized hind leg that looks like a weathered peg that may've drifted up onto some isolated beach. And was then firmly attached to a cat. Or the rolled-up tracksuit leg of an early 90's gangsta. Or a country parishioner on a bike. There's not much dignity to the look, but his mood is spry and cuddly and it looks like he'll be a porch-cat from hereonin.
And all I can say to the menace still lurking in the alley is, "Mama said knock you out".