The morning begun without even a sneaking suspicion from Whiskey that the day would evolve into something dramatic and horrible. If he had known, I strongly suspect he would have peed in my bed or something like that, just to make a point beforehand.
He was working hard on his "being really annoying to make The Female take of that stupid cone"- routine so that he could scratch that itch in his ear and go out again to kick that other cats butt.
Poor kitty never saw it coming...
Me on the other hand had decided that the situation of his ear probably was out of my hands and needed to be seen to by a vet. In to a carrier he went, wildly protesting and off to the Vet. The Vet told me that this was deep and that they needed to keep him for some hours to patch him up.
|I forgot my own knitting at home. Would you belive it?!|
|Rubber antennae satelite cat. He gets more space-y every day.|
Later on we went home, me and a heavily drugged cat who for all I knew hallucinated about the zombie apocalypse, at least he was behaving that way. It was kinda scary. The only was to keep him relatively calm and not try to walk or jump was to hold him tightly and stroke his back. He has two rubber drainage thingies sticking out from his head, and he got his teeth cleaned when they were at it and had the whole 5,5 kg (yep, he is a big boy) cat under sedation, so he now drools heavily. Guess who has to wipe that up? Well, I don't mind. I feel kinda sorry for him, he is going to be fine and all, but I can't really explain that to him.
Oh, well. On to new yarny depths, with FrankenCat by my side.