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Zoey's home, complete with the post-op Elizabethan collar which will be a thoroughly unsatisfactory part of her life for the next week and change. Naturally, she's made it her life's work to try ripping her stitches out, so the collar's a must to prevent that. Unfortunately, said collar must be removed whenever she eats (which is often) and it prevents her from getting through the catdoor to the downstairs catboxes, so we've reinstalled one in the bathroom for her entertainment use during her convalescence, which also requires supervision and, um, assistance for as long as the collar's on her.
As Eleanor posted after collecting her earlier, Zoey was quite the rogue at the vet's after the surgery, quickly acquiring the nickname "Houdini" on account of her escape attempts (and, since then, "Masochist" on account of her stitch-removal attempts).
For the moment, at least, she's passed out on the floor in Emily's room. She also purrs up a storm whenever anyone holds her, especially if we scratch behind her ears or anywhere else she can't reach with the collar on. We also need to get a picture of her basically connecting her collared head to the fish tank so the top appears to be hermetically sealed to it, presumably on the premise that, well, if it's clear plastic and THIS is clear plastic, why don't the fishies just pass through it and head down my gullet?
( ETA-Oh look, we GOT such a picture.... )
Such wishes are not to be confused with our dinner. Eleanor made baked crabcakes, far closer to the Lumps from my recent travels than any of her prior efforts at frying the beasties. Om nom nom. Even Emily liked them- third time in a week that she's- SHOCK AND AMAZEMENT- eaten the same meal that we did.
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In addition to yesterday's relatively major feline surgery, in the past week I've acquired new (well, newer) laptops for both Eleanor and Emily- the missus's prior one was in better shape but had been literally coming unhinged in recent weeks, while Em's, our first XP model from probably going on eight years ago, was close to literally being held together with gum and scotch tape. We're all in the 21st century now, just in time for our house full of Vista to be rendered obsolete anytime now.
----
The news on the way home from court and computer acquisition was all agog about the Bills finally firing their coach from the past three seasons, who'd once again underwhelmed everybody with a 3-6 record. The funniest moment from Jauron's Waterloo game was the opposing team's owner, an 86-year-old coot, flipping a double-bird to Bills fans in his stadium:
The only thing more depressing than an 86-year-old owner? Our 91-year-old one.
----
Tomorrow promises to be my only relatively quiet day of the week, with far more and further fun and games awaiting me (especially) Thursday but also the end of the week.
As Eleanor posted after collecting her earlier, Zoey was quite the rogue at the vet's after the surgery, quickly acquiring the nickname "Houdini" on account of her escape attempts (and, since then, "Masochist" on account of her stitch-removal attempts).
For the moment, at least, she's passed out on the floor in Emily's room. She also purrs up a storm whenever anyone holds her, especially if we scratch behind her ears or anywhere else she can't reach with the collar on. We also need to get a picture of her basically connecting her collared head to the fish tank so the top appears to be hermetically sealed to it, presumably on the premise that, well, if it's clear plastic and THIS is clear plastic, why don't the fishies just pass through it and head down my gullet?
( ETA-Oh look, we GOT such a picture.... )
Such wishes are not to be confused with our dinner. Eleanor made baked crabcakes, far closer to the Lumps from my recent travels than any of her prior efforts at frying the beasties. Om nom nom. Even Emily liked them- third time in a week that she's- SHOCK AND AMAZEMENT- eaten the same meal that we did.
----
In addition to yesterday's relatively major feline surgery, in the past week I've acquired new (well, newer) laptops for both Eleanor and Emily- the missus's prior one was in better shape but had been literally coming unhinged in recent weeks, while Em's, our first XP model from probably going on eight years ago, was close to literally being held together with gum and scotch tape. We're all in the 21st century now, just in time for our house full of Vista to be rendered obsolete anytime now.
----
The news on the way home from court and computer acquisition was all agog about the Bills finally firing their coach from the past three seasons, who'd once again underwhelmed everybody with a 3-6 record. The funniest moment from Jauron's Waterloo game was the opposing team's owner, an 86-year-old coot, flipping a double-bird to Bills fans in his stadium:
The only thing more depressing than an 86-year-old owner? Our 91-year-old one.
----
Tomorrow promises to be my only relatively quiet day of the week, with far more and further fun and games awaiting me (especially) Thursday but also the end of the week.