Realising Wilson might be heading towards an existential crisis, I bundled him into the car and drove him to the vet, who saw him immediately as an emergency case.
After taking a look at him and chatting with him for a few minutes, she told me that there was nothing physically wrong with Wilson, but recommended me to take him to see a colleague of hers who specialised in 'this sort of thing'.
After we left, W told me that the vet was very kind and reminded him of his mum, Mrs Vermilingua. Perhaps he's just missing his mother.
On arriving home I checked my email and found I'd received a receipt from iTunes for the collected works of Søren Kierkegaard and for Jean-Paul Sartre's 'Being and Nothingness', Kindle edition.
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