Puss in Boots and a Cone of Shame

The concept of placing Puddin's kennel in front of a TV playing nonstop Disney movies in order to allow him to heal, was a pedantic notion at best.  Interaction is actually required on our part to administer medicine and clean--gulp--litter boxes.  And, once he started popping stitches like a hair band pops guitar strings, our level of interaction with the cat escalated.

 

P-diddly, aka Puddy, aka Puff Daddy, aka Puddin H., has been one easy going cat with the exception that he doesn't realize he is injured.  He seems to feel no pain even when his meds have worn off.  When Puddy is sober, he is extremely affectionate and purrs, even if I'm picking cat litter out of his wound--which, again, has been widened considerably with only the top and bottom (and the penrose drain) intact.

 

I promise there are no photos of his wound below, but let's just say the veterinarian--or "Puddin's pediatrician," as Mr. H calls her--couldn't believe by the looks of it, this cat hadn't disemboweled himself.  He might yet before the night is out. Every time I check on him his wound looks more open, with only the top and bottom in place.  Wait...I take that back...the very bottom is now popped open too, so he'll probably be drinking his water through the drain like a straw when I see him in the morning.

 

Our animal expert, Seneca, firmly stated that Puddin' should have come home with an e-collar, but didn't.  We picked him up on Saturday morning to bring him home and by late that evening it was apparent he had lost one or two stitches.  Assuming he had pulled them out with is mouth or something, we needed to either create a makeshift e-collar or find one that was used on the Chihuahuas and hope it wasn't too big for an 8-month old kitten.

 

Our first attempt was a more humane wrap created with a turquoise dish towel and neon pink vet wrap.  Though jaunty, it only took P-diddly 20 seconds to remove it.

 

 

 

 

We gave that idea up and put the cat back in the kennel, hoping he wouldn't pull any more stitches before Monday morning which will yield a surprise visit to the vet (to stitch the very same area).  Skeptical, I went to the basement and found Loki's old Cone of Shame and brought it upstairs, wondering how the plastic hat would ever go over well with Puddin' and how he'd deal with being in a tiny kennel with a huge satellite on his head.

 

He was super pleased at first (not) but calmed down in less than ten minutes.  He really has been a gem to take care of, aside from needing another doctor visit to replace stitches.  He's been easier to tend to than any ailing animal we've ever dealt with (sorry, Gunnar, even you were difficult in the Cone).  In fact, he's been more amiable and adorable while injured than most animals are when they're healthy.

 

 

The Cone of Shame

Puddin, on one of his occasional breaks out of solitary confinement.
Clearly, he looks anxious. This photo cleverly hides a horrific injury,
starting at the left side of the base of his tail, ripping through his hamstring,
ending at the inside edge of his kneecap.

 

 

Rule #56: Never get too attached to the barn cats....oops