Difficult as it is to believe, Little Miss Fluffypants is 6 months old now, and it was time for her necessary operation. I am a believer in the benefits of spaying and neutering, and as much as I worried about her having surgery, I knew it needed to be done.
That doesn't mean I didn't feel like a traitor when I dropped her off at the vet's.
I felt doubly treacherous when she returned to me wearing this device, intended to keep her from messing with her stitches. She could barely hold her head up, it was so (relatively) heavy. When you only weigh 6 pounds, even light things feel heavy.
I removed the collar as soon as I got her home. She must have been exhausted, because she went straight to bed and slept the clock around.
She'd never slept on the bed pillows before, but now she seems to believe it's her right. Or that I am feeling guilty enough that I won't dare to object.
I am supposed to keep her quiet - no running, no jumping up on things - but seriously, it's like trying to hold back the sea. When she awoke from her recuperative nap, she was her old self again. I can't imagine moving around the way she did, only two days out from abdominal surgery, but it hasn't phased her a bit.
There is no sign that she's been messing with her stitches, probably because she's been too busy helping me with my computer work and keeping my shoelaces in line.