Well, the good news is the tablets I poked into his Tesco beef chunks in gravy
are gone, and I think they're inside him rather than spat out somewhere. The bad news is I feel like an awful human.
When I got up yesterday morning I did what I always do - threw the duvet back to let the bed air, and then didn't make the bed like I always don't. When I went to bed last night I pulled the duvet up, and there was a massive patch of blood on it. He'd obviously come in from fighting, jumped onto the bed, and bled on it, while I didn't even notice.
He seems to be much perkier now but I'll try and keep him in for a couple of nights anyway.
Charlie (fearsome dentures, bruiser mentality) has a more-or-less permanent set of scabs and scars on his head due to fights with who-knows-what. The tip of one ear got ripped, and now has a little kink in it. I've long since stopped doing anything more serious than checking him over and cleaning (warm saline) anything he's missed.
If I had seen the wound, I probably would have done the same, but all I saw was a gungy black ear and a cat looking sorry for himself.