Tripawd the Huntress

Sadie is now nine and a half days out from her amputation, and has shown signs of feeling better these last two days.  Periods of autonomous sleeping in lieu of constant snuggling, no indication of nerve pain, swatted Merus in the head when Merus got on her face, and getting a bit more aggressive when it comes to food time. 

Last night I woke to use the bathroom at 1:00am, noticing Sadie was not tucked up in our bed like other nights.  As I got to the other side of the house I heard her cone scraping a bit.  Maybe she was using the litter box again?  Turned on the light in the bathroom, both cats over by the shower. 

Merus caught my eye since she was frantically searching around the shower curtain, circling in and out, sniffing and looking. That only happens when she knows the presence of beans, avocado, asparagus, and mice.  

Sadie had already calmly tri-hopped into the next room.  Found her squatted down and facing away under my desk.  

Chewing. 

Turned on that light, and sure enough there was a tail hanging out of her mouth.  That mouse was toast.  And, impressively, Bad Cat's cone was intact.  

I can never tell if Merus first maimed the critter before Sadie pounced, since Merus only has her front teeth and three canines (no molars), or if Sadie did all the work herself.  Either way, it's clear Bat Cat is feeling better and getting back her game.  I guess this also helps her keep a high protein post-op diet.  Even now as I get ready for my morning waddle "run" she is sitting smug and satiated.  Cue purr-fest.  

Poop surprises

Yesterday I got home from work to Nathan exasperated at the table.  "I need your help.  Sadie stepping in poop earlier and I couldn't get it all off."  Miss Sadie was sitting prim and proper on the kitchen table atop the mail, calmly looking up from her cone at my entrance.

"I got what I could and left the cone off in hopes she'd get the rest.  She cleaned everything else but that foot."  

We'd removed the litter box lids so that Bad Cat could negotiate them with her plastic collar.  Apparently she still had trouble turning around.  Nathan held her while I wedged a sudsy washcloth between her toes.  

Last night I built a new fire and saw a credit card statement atop the burn pile unopened.  I asked if he meant to keep it.  "No, it's got poop on it.  Sadie sat on it before you got home."  The slightest tinge of tan on one corner of the envelope.  He didn't want the contents either.  He's thorough with disposal of poop cooties, it seems.  

An hou ago I heard Sadie kicking around the litter for a good minute.  Then Nathan.  "Whatcha doin' in there, Sadie?  Are ya... Oh, Sadie, don't do that!  Sadie, stop that!"  

When Nathan called her name she look up from inspecting her poop, but since the cone extends so far beyond her face she ended up hooking the poop on the edge.  Upon lifting her head the poop rolled down the inside to her neck. 

I walked over to check out the commotion, and Nathan walked out holding the cone with the tips of two fingers.  "I guess we should wash it, huh?"  The only evidence I saw were two little smudges on the collar's edge, but Nathan's face was priceless.  Sadie came out and sat before us, again all prim and proper but more relaxed without the cone.  

Just you wait until March, Nathan.  Just you wait.   

Tripawd

Sadie, aka Bad Cat, aka Toader, has gone through a big change. 

She had an amputation five days ago. She developed a tumor that spread to both her left humerus and scapula, but the more likely source was chondral or synovial. What felt firm and osseous from the outside ended up as a large fluid muck of a tumor big enough to dislocate her shoulder. 

Nicely, her lungs -- the next location of spread for synovial/chondral tumors -- was totally clear, as were all other lymph nodes in her neck and other three legs. 

The entire staff at Alpine Veterinary Hospital loved her, which figures.  She always makes others swoon.  The surgery went very well as dos her initial recovery.  Our DVM said she spent much of her second day there happily lounging under a heat lamp.  Back home the next night she was practically her usual self aside from one less arm. 

The scar is big but not heinous, but she can reach some stitches to lick.  So she has also ended up with a cone.  She's strong enough to move with it, but she quickly realized its sight and maneuverability limitations and so mostly sleeps.  We take it off when she eats and leave it off until she starts licking or until we have to leave home.  She has had a bit of nerve pain, but so far we have not had to administer meds as it is in small enough waves that are fairly well spread apart.  Apparently cats typically experience little to no pain after amputation, which is quite amazing when your job deals with human postoperative pain on a daily basis.  She has only managed to ditch the cone once. 

Nine more days until the stitches come out. Mice beware -- I doubt missing a limb will slow her down for very long!