Orca, our injured cat I wrote about the other day, had his surgery and came home yesterday afternoon. He is already hobbling around and using that leg. Unbelievable. The leg is pinned with an apparatus on the outside that the veterinarian calls a Tinker toy. It looks ungainly and certainly has to be uncomfortable, but Orca doesn’t seem bothered by it.
The other cats, however, are extremely bothered by it. They both – including Orca’s mother — hiss at him whenever we let him out of the bathroom where he is confined. We have to do that periodically just to save our sanity.
Orca is not thrilled with being locked up in a small space and lets us know in loud protests. That cat has the loudest meow I have ever heard, and when he’s upset, he really cranks it up. He yowled most of the evening yesterday, and I had visions of him keeping us up all night, but thank goodness, he went to sleep and we didn’t hear from him until early this morning.
Then he really wanted to go outside. I let him come out of the bathroom while I got his food and the pill I had to shove down his throat. Orca went to every door and meowed to go out. I think he wanted to use the great outdoors instead of the litter box — he’s always preferred that — but he finally gave in when I put him back in the bathroom. A little later I checked and the box had been used.
He just gave me a look that said, “Okay. I did it. I didn’t like it, but here it is. Are you happy? And who’s going to clean up this mess. Certainly not me.”
At least I think that’s what he said. Cat speak is so hard to discipher.