Just call her Ms. Pegleg. The kitty is getting back to, well, she was never normal to begin with with, but more like her usual obnoxious self.
I wanted a photo of her with the flourescent pink wrap and the catheter on her leg, but she threatened to scratch my eyes out if I collected such incriminating evidence. Her head is blocking it, but there is a shaved patch under her chin, too, where they were giving her injections.
Her chin looks a little strange because she has beads of water sticking to it, having just taken a drink from the water dish.
Right now, she has pretty much abandoned the cave behind the couch and is sleeping on a pad near the front windows where she can watch the wold go by. She has very little strength in her rear, though she walks around OK. If she tries to jump up onto something (which, being a cat, is about equivalent to breathing), her legs give out and she sits with a thump. And a growl.
We can kind of cuddle her if we let her pick out her own spot in a lap (after much wailing and hissing when being picked up - my cat is a bitch) so she can lie comfortably. This afternoon, I noticed she can bear me putting a little pressure on her rump and still stand up.
Anglachel
1 comment:
*wonders whether it's safe to laugh at kitty's po'ed expression from this distance*
*decides probably not*
*settles for well-wishes and virtual tuna*
- Nath
Post a Comment