Spot came home on Monday afternoon. Into the crate. He was doing fine, not really thrilled with crate living, though. I spent a lot of time cleaning up after him, his poop was kind of nasty the first day and he’s a big cat (vet says he should lose some weight) and even thought it’s a large crate, it’s still cramped when you add in the cone on his head and the litterbox.
Well, Wednesday it was obvious he could lick his incision, even with the cone. I called our local favorite pet supply store to see if they had any other cones, after Rainy (the wonderful nurse who’s doing most of the aftercare, her husband did the surgery) told me to get a longer cone. Got that on him Wednesday night and Thursday morning, the little butt had taken it off. He was in the crate, just looking at me. Towels and peepads and litterbox were a disaster behind him.
I emailed photos to Rainy of him in the cone, she told me to get a shoelace and using the holes in the cone around the neck, anchor the cone so he can’t pull it off. Okay, done.
I let him out, took him into the bedroom, it was really nice. He climbed up on me and fell asleep. So did I. He was fine as long as I was in there with him, but when I left, he wanted out. He finally settled down somewhat and I watched as he tried to clean himself. He licked the inside of the cone. Yay! Then I noticed he could manuver the cone in such a way that it rubbed against the incision. The incision started to weep. Dianne began to panic.
Thursday, I met with Rainy in the parking lot at the vet’s office. We took Spot inside and she took him out of the carrier to look at his backside. She shook her head. She took him home to try different cone, the first thing being turning this cone around (I had it wrong side out, I guess, and the edge of the side facing out had stitching on it that was the culprit). She had others to try, but this did the trick. She wanted to keep him over the weekend (thankyouthankyouthankyou) and he’s coming home tomorrow.
I miss him and Bobby is REALLY beginning to wonder where his best friend is. He searches the house at night, crying for him. Once Spot’s home, only two more weeks! Next week the stitches come out, the following week the cone comes off and he can (I hope) leave the crate.
I’d love to have my pre-struvite life back. This summer was nothing but watching Spot. But he’s okay and will be back on his feet before we know it.