The Cone Of Shame

Day 346: I warned them. "He's got a real temper," I said. When the vet tech returned him to me, carrier in one hand and Elizabethan collar in the other, she told me, "He was really mad when he woke up, so we didn't get the cone on him." I wasn't surprised in the least. Yes, today was the necessary pre-puberty surgery, and I have been fretting about it for weeks. Everything went smoothly (well, except for getting the collar on him) and we are now home. It has taken several adjustments, but the Cone of Shame has been securely in place for a little over half an hour now. I won't claim victory just yet, but at least we're close. The surgical procedure has changed a lot since I last had a kitty neutered. They simply make a small incision, remove the important bits and that's it. No sutures. No glue. Just a tiny wound which they leave open to heal over the next 7-10 days while I try to keep the Cone of Shame in place. In a month, he won't even remember what happened to him on this visit.

Pillow Provided

Day 43: There are only a few days left of Tippy's tenure in the Cone of Shame, so I feel compelled to explain that certain concessions to comfort have had to be provided at the expense of my trying to get anything else done. He has been such a good boy throughout the ordeal, first allowing doctor to perform surgery with only a local anaesthetic and then not protesting the Cone in the slightest. He's popped out of it twice accidentally, the first time when it caught the edge of the footstool as he leapt down to the floor and the second when he attempted to get onto the window sill behind the couch and fell between the couch and the wall. He did not resist or struggle when I reinstalled it. I suppose the least I can do is provide a soft pillow even if it means I'm not getting any needlework done. Sound asleep in this photo, he remained in this position for twenty minutes before shifting off my hand.

Never Laugh At A Cat

Day 35: Cats' people must understand one thing in feline psychology if they grasp nothing else: it is the height of rudeness to laugh at a cat, or even to allow the slightest inkling of a snicker to twitch the corners of your mouth. This is not to say that cats are humourless; quite the contrary! Many cats have a well-developed sense of humour, though perhaps on a level which eludes mere humans, manifesting most frequently as dry disdain. Ever have a cat give you "The Look?" That's cat humour. The indignity of the Cone of Shame is one thing and must be borne in good grace, but laughter? No. One must never laugh at a cat, no matter how strongly they resemble a vacuum device of some sort, designed for sucking up cat food on an industrial scale.

The Cone Of Shame

Day 33: We are home. I haven't spoken of this publicly, but when Tip went in for his annual exam last week, I asked his doctor to look at a lump beneath his ear. It had been there for a while, but he'd started fussing at it. She determined that it was more than just a "kitty bump" (cyst) via a punch biopsy which was then sent out for analysis. The return stated that it was a mast-cell tumor. This type of tumor in cats is described as "unpredictable, but usually benign," and due to the unpredictability factor, she recommended removal. However, Tip has a pronounced heart murmur which precludes using general anaesthesia. She thought she'd be able to do it under a local, but nevertheless I was worried. I took him in early this morning. Fifteen minutes later, doctor came out of the operating theater and announced that he had come through just fine. I waited another half hour to get the results of his blood tests - everything normal. Now we wait for the pathology, and meanwhile, good little Tippy who didn't bite or claw anybody has been consigned to the Cone of Shame for two weeks while the incision heals. I expected him to protest, but he seems to be accepting his circumstances with amazingly good grace.