our weekend

Well, it’s been one helluva weekend.  That’s for damn sure.

My mother once told me she hoped I got a daughter just like me one day–willful and stubborn as Hell–and man–oh, man–has the Universe delivered with Fogg.  She’s like a mini, furry version of me.   I mean, she’s always been like that–but when high as a kite, and recovering from anesthesia, it’s shocking.

Surgery went really well.  I picked her up, asked a ton of questions, and was surprised by how awake she was.  She was not sleepy AT ALL.  Everything was good on the ride home.  It wasn’t until we walked in the door of the apartment and she saw Rilly’s wide, worried eyes that she went into Beast mode.

Chica did everything possible to get out of that carrier.  They didn’t put her soft e-collar on, leaving me to do that at home–so she could have done some damage.  The vet  had been pretty clear  that I need to keep her away from her sutures since they could easily come out.  I’m a big worrywart, so I was pretty much dying while she was doing this.  I basically raced  to the bedroom–which was all set for her–except for  her soaked dry food–since that wasn’t recommended for a few hours.

I was expecting a quiet, docile, sleepy kitty.  I basically got Kitty Cujo–only nice.  I let her out of the holding cell (aka carrier), and she basically burst out–immediately jumping on my bed and laying next to my pillows.  So, that was broken rule #1 and #2 (no jumping or running).   I had barricaded everything I thought could give her an issue and figured I would just be able to stop her from jumping.  HAHAAHAH.

The no jumping rule was mostly due to her being unsteady from anesthesia, but there really was no stopping her.  She proceeded to jump up and down–exploring everything–and growling while rubbing everything as well.  Fogg is a very mellow cat, normally, so it was distressing that she literally wouldn’t stop moving.

At one point, within five minutes of release, I noticed blood.  I immediately picked her up and blood squired down my hand.  So, I called the vet–in a clear panic–asking if this was normal and okay.  They said it was normal as long as it wasn’t a ton of blood.  It was just a little bit, so I felt better.  They said I could bring her back, if I wanted, for the night–but I opted to stay here with her.  It was a super rough night that night.  Fogg  somehow got into forbidden areas–twice–and was just generally psychotic.  It was pretty miserable.  The e-collar wasn’t really working as she was able to get it down and was just generally  crazily trying to rip it off.

So basically, she was having the opposite reaction to anesthesia and pain meds that normal cats have.   She seemed to get more  “back to normal” yesterday, but was still really hyper. We both finally got some sleep.

Even though my gut said not to, I allowed her to sleep free in my bedroom–instead of confined to a crate last night.  What could go wrong, right?

I was supposed to give her pain meds at 4 am, but my alarm didn’t go off–so I didn’t wake up until 6:42 am.  I noticed she was no where to be found, so I checked her previous forbidden hideaway and found her.  It was difficult getting her out, again (my arms have massive bruising from Friday night).  But I was able to gently do it.  I was pretty annoyed and mystified because I literally could not figure out how she got in.  She had pulled off her e-collar, and it looked like she ripped a stitch.

So, off to the emergency vet we went–only to be told that she ripped the skin and the stitch was still in place.  Thank God.

We’re home, with a rigid e-collar, that she ripped off within 20 seconds.

But, on the bright side, she seems much more calm today and is more herself.

12 days till the stitches are out.

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