Yes, I took him back to the vet this morning, as soon as the clinic opened.
I knew before I got home from work last night. I just had a heavy feeling in my heart. I still ran upstairs to his room to check the boxes but aside from some soft stool--nothing. I looked Pickle over carefully. If he had shone any sign of distress, I would have called the vet emergency number and run back down to town with him. He was resting in the bed and while he wasn't cranky, he seemed restless. But not in distress.
I checked on him several times during the night. No change. He would purr when I petted him, but then would visit the two boxes in order and wait for relief that didn't come. It was so depressing.
So back to town at nine this morning. Pickle wasn't thrilled at being put back in the carrier but he seemed to know we were going to get him feeling better.
We were going down Baycrest when I had my epiphany. No great revelation, just a warm wave of peace that washed over me and the sudden awareness that everything was going to be alright. I stuck my fingers through the grate on the carrier, stroking Pickle's nose, trying to convey that peace and certainty to him. No matter how things turned out, it will be okay. I don't know where it came from, but I knew--and know. The tension in my gut melted away, replaced by a calmness I haven't felt in days.
Everything is going to be okay...
Our vet saw us immediately. A quick check confirmed that he was blocked again. She comforted me by saying it was very common. She took him back to get him sedated and catheterized right away. She called me at work this afternoon with an update, assuring me that the prognosis was good and that he was resting comfortably (with a little bit of Valium on board.)
He's in good hands and he's where he needs to be. I guess I needed to bring him home to realize that.