Victour he is at all mellie

The Scot has been battling abdominal lymphoma since Thanksgiving. This is often, perhaps usually, highly treatable in cats. And since the Shakespearian Heroine, with a different sort of cancer, has managed to shrink her tumors to invisibility, at the outset we were optimistic. While it would have had to be an on-going campaign, it should not have been an intensive one.

But after initial advances, the Scot’s war did not go well. The enemy was wilier, more persistent, more resistant, than anticipated. And our side had only limited tactics at its disposal.

So the white flag has been raised, and we are now negotiating the terms of the Scot’s surrender.

In other words, we have a few days to say goodbye, and then

Well, then. You know what I’m trying to say.

On to the ded gois all estatis,
Princis, prelotis, and potestatis,
Baith riche and pur of al degre:
Timor mortis conturbat me.

He takis the knychtis in to feild,
Anarmit under helme and scheild;
Victour he is at all mellie:
Timor mortis conturbat me.

The Scot will follow William Dunbar, good gentle Stobo, and the others of their nation.