Tig is still recovering from his renal surgery, but he’s much, much better. However, he’s been a conehead for nearly two weeks now. He’s getting the stitches out on Monday, but until then, he doesn’t get much of a respite. I take the cone off to feed him, and also leave it off for long periods of time when I’m downstairs with him–IF he doesn’t lick the stitches. We used to have some quality time while I watch whatever I’ve DVR’d for the day, like my soap opera. He’ll sleep on the chair with me, or in my lap, or on the ottoman in front of me. Like today. Here’s what he looked like this evening.
And here he is after he started going for the stitches. He is not nearly as happy with the cone, but, well–that’s life for about two more days.
I’m lucky I have such a good-natured cat. Everyone at the vet’s told me how sweet he was (and what a relief it was to have a sweet cat to take care of). He tries to run away sometimes when I put the cone back on, but he doesn’t fight me when I put him in the downstairs bathroom for the night. He’s getting antsy and wants to hang out in the garage again, but I’m nixing that until he’s completely healed. Just a few more days, and I’ll let him back upstairs, too. Gracie’s probably going to hiss at him for a few days. She’s gotten used to being the only cat allowed upstairs. But I miss my nightly goofball play sessions. It’ll be nice to have my silly boy running back and forth down the hall behind me while I’m in the bathroom brushing my teeth, mrowr-mrowring the whole way, and waiting for me on the bed to bring him a toy or the laser pointer.
At least I still have him. He definitely lost a few lives two weeks ago. The vets never actually admitted it, but they came about as close to admitting it as a vet will come.
Well, just a few more days and my boy will be mostly back to normal. Boy, is he going to like being able to groom himself without my jumping him and putting a plastic cone around his neck.