I got him some babyfood chicken, this morning. I was encouraged that I managed to convince him to lick a couple bites off my finger, this morning. It's the first ...well, not quite solid, but food...he's taken since Saturday morning, when he gave two half-hearted licks at the gravy on the cat food, which really wasn't even enough to count. He's obviously under the weather, but still being the tough little guy he's always been.
If it's serious enough he's going to pass along to the arms of Bast, anyway, I am hoping to have it happen at home, while he's reasonably comfortable and in familiar surroundings. Sasha did that, and avoided a final trip to the vet.