Tag Archives: spay

On the limit of post-operative instructions…

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When you leave the vet’s office after one of your little furballs has surgery, they send you home with a post-op care sheet. In theory, this paperwork will tell you what to do, what issues to be on the lookout for, and how to handle some basic situations if they crop up. The post-op sheet isn’t and can’t be an exhaustive reference.

The reason I know this is because it doesn’t address, in any way, the scenario I was faced with this morning. By yesterday evening, Cordelia seems to have overcome her post-surgery lethargy. I’ve seen her eating, drinking, and eliminating – all the things you’re supposed to monitor as your patient recovers.

I don’t suppose any read ahead material really prepares you for starting the day to realize that sometime during the night, the kitten has gone head first into her food dish and smeared food around the circumference of the cone. She also managed to get the edge of the cone into her litter and had that clumped to the cone.

Under normal circumstances (or perhaps with a normal kitten), you might be tempted to think I’d just remove the cone, clean it up, and then put it back on her. The thing is, Cordy remains what I politely like to call selectively feral. She’ll accept being touched on her terms, but when I initiate it, she’s off like a rocket to the nearest available hiding place. She simply will not be “handled.” Thanks to her slight build, those places are most often under things like the bed or dresser and therefore bloody inconvenient places from which to try extracting her.

This leaves me in a bit of a conundrum. I don’t want to put her in a position where she can defile her sutures, but overall, I wonder which is better, removing the cone, cleaning it, and most likely being unable to put her back in it, or leaving her to wander the house for the next week with a crud encrusted cone?

Yeah, there are definitely things the post-op instructions don’t cover.

Maybe I should just hire a staff vet…

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It’s Groundhog Day. Again. I schlepped poor Cordelia over to Delaware to get Spayed this morning. It was one of those things that was supposed to come “free with purchase” from the shelter, but after the various go arounds with getting Anya’s eye fixed up, I was more comfortable taking both of them to my own vet. That, of course, means paying all the freight for their medical care myself. Fine. It’s only money.

I feel like we’ve spent an inordinate amount of time dealing with vets these last three months with multiple visits for both Cordy and Anya. I like to imagine we’re going to get a break now that Cordy is finally “fixed.” Given my luck with animal health, I’m trying to mentally prepare for more of the same. If we can fall into a routine of annual visits, that’s great. If it goes the other way, well, we’ll muddle through that too.

The vet says Cordy did well and sent her home with a cone and some pain meds. She isn’t a big fan of the cone. She still doesn’t like to be handled even at the best of times, so hopefully the cone stays on. Catching her and getting it refitted or applying one of the other options would be one of those things I just can’t quite manage to do as a one man band.

I should apologize in advance to anyone I need to deal with over the next 7-10 days. I may be physically elsewhere, but I’ll be entirely focused on what this cat is doing and running every conceivable, statistically improbable what if scenario in my head. Yeah. It’ll be a good time for sure. 

A continuing tale of two cats…

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Anya has spent more of her life with me wearing a cone than not. I feel badly about that, but it has been an unfortunate, necessary evil to get her through her initial eye infection, the corrective surgery, and now her spay procedure. I wish I were half as resilient as this little seven pound cat seems to be.

All the literature is quick to point out that spaying your cat is a simple, outpatient surgery. Most of the authoritative online resources say that in 48 hours, your pet should be back to something of their normal selves. The spay itself may be an entirely common surgery, but it’s still invasive as hell, and Anya wasn’t one of those who came around in the usual fashion. Fortunately, she was eating well, drinking regularly, and moving around enough to get to and from the litter box as needed. It’s just now, a full week after her most recent surgery that she’s starting to come around to what I’d consider normal behaviors for her.

This morning she was on my bed demanding ear scratches as soon as my alarm went off. She then followed me around while I prepared and delivered breakfast to all the members of the menagerie. She perched in her overwatch position on the cat tree while I got caffeinated. It doesn’t seem particularly newsworthy unless you know she spent the last week snoozing for 22 hours out of every 24 and often not budging for 8-12 hours at a time. Based on what was reported as “normal,” my level of concern for how she was getting along was beginning to elevate dramatically.

Here’s hoping that this is the start of trending back towards normal… Which should get her there just in time for Cordelia to go under the knife for her own procedure next Monday. Getting these critters settled in has made for an awfully long spring. Had I known what I was in for, I might have made some radically different decisions when picking these two out of the mix. File it away as one of the very few times I’m glad I didn’t know then what I know now.

Maybe by Independence Day, we’ll have everyone off the sick and injured list and start seeing what normal really looks like. I’ve probably just jinxed myself by even thinking about it.

Heat…

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Anya is scheduled for spay surgery in two weeks. It was the first available appointment with my regular vet. I could possibly had it done sooner if I’d have gone back through the shelter and used their choice of vet, but my bigger focus for the last two months has been making sure her eye issues were resolved, so I didn’t especially mind the delay. 

Now that we’re four days in to her first heat, let me be the very first to say that I wish I had been focused on both things simultaneously. She’s eight months old now, so this turn of events is not exactly unexpected. As we drew closer to her appointment, I mostly hoped that the natural course of things would just hold off a bit longer. It didn’t, of course, so I’ve been treated to a solid weekend of caterwauling and sweet Aud being an enormous pain in the ass.

All the other rescue animals who have made their way home with me have either arrived after neutering or had standing appointments to have the operation shortly after they got here. These last few days have certainly made the case in my mind for animals to be neutered before they’re placed in a home. For someone who was less tolerant of animal peculiarities or who doesn’t sleep quite as deeply as I do, I can see where the story might not end well.

At least with Anya there’s light at the end of the tunnel – or at the end of May, whichever comes first. I have to wonder, though, how many other intact animals the shelter has sent out into the world who will end up “unfixed” and contributing to the next wave of unwanted cats. I’m fully aware of the resource limitations they’re contending with, but I have to strongly recommend that Cecil County Animal Services revisit their policy of placing intact cats in the community. At some point it becomes a self-licking ice cream cone.

With Anya’s path more or less laid out, now I’m focused on getting Cordelia caught up with her vaccinations and on someone’s schedule for her own surgery. Whether that will be my regular vet or someone else, remains to be determined. Now that she has emerged from her reclusive, under bed period, I’m cautiously optimistic I’ll be able to get her contained and into a crate without tearing the entire house down in the process. Probably. Maybe.