Billy, age twelve and a half, was back in to the vet Wednesday for blood and urine samples. This morning, I got the results when I took Oscar in for his own regular exam and shots.
It's official, Billy has the beginnings of kidney disease, the same arena that claimed Her Emilyness a decade ago. This startled and somewhat saddened me; I sort of expected Billy, if not to live forever, or to seriously outlive his brother. That doesn't sound as likely now.
Our senior prince has good years left, of course. Exactly how many, the doctor was vague about.
Short term actions: Switch him to all wet prescription food and recheck in a year.
Oscar, as always, was both grumpy and healthy. Sufficiently grumpy that he got the wrapped-in-a-towel-in-the-backroom exam, but he's back home and free now.