Saint Mister

So, the other night, I went to brush my teeth and noticed that there were large drops of blood on the floor and the countertop.  The floor could be any of them, but the countertop could only be one of two of them--Wanda or Mister.  I followed the trail of blood into our bedroom to find Mister asleep on the bed with large drops of blood surrounding him, then more drops of blood on the floor where he'd jumped up on the bed.  

I picked him up, took him to the bathroom, and called for Sean.  We closed both bathroom doors and spent the next ten to fifteen minutes trying to figure out where he was bleeding.  We checked his rear-end--nothing.  We checked all four paw pads--clean.  We checked his mouth, since several of the buddies have lost teeth unexpectedly--all remaining teeth accounted for.  We went over every square inch of his body with our hands and eyes and could not find the source of the blood, even though he had blood all over his fur as well.  

By this point, we were pretty puzzled, so we started checking the other cats, in case he'd gotten in a fight with one of them, and this wasn't even his blood.  We realized it was a long shot, but it was worth a try.  No dice.  Then we searched the basement to see if he'd found (and dispatched) a critter down there.  There was no evidence of any other blood except for in the bathroom, bedroom and office.  Mind you, there was a fair amount of blood in there.  We actually considered calling our vet, who does his own emergency calls, except we didn't really know what to tell him.  Additionally, except for the part about being poked, prodded and held in the bathroom against his will, Mister didn't seem to be in any real distress.

So we started trying to rule out other possibilities--he'd scratched off a scab on his head, which had miraculously already started to mend.  Or he'd cut his paw, but he'd already had time to lick it back into good health, and that's why we couldn't find it.  Finally, we landed on the most logical option--Mister had suddenly developed a stigmata.  This would be a very good possibility, except for one small problem--Mister is at best a lapsed Catholic, and I'm not even sure he's that.  So it makes very little sense that he would have a stigmata.  But, since it's the best we could come up with, we're just going to go with it for now.  

But we might be very concerned if Mister starts coming up from the basement smelling of incense and trying to make his break out of the house every Sunday around 11:00am.  Just in case this happens, does anybody know a priest who makes house calls?