Sophie Has Left the Onesie!

I know you're going to remember that my precious little girl, Sophie has been having skin issues on her tummy resulting in her overgrooming the area and her having to wear the cone of shame and then be mercifully transferred to a onesie. 

Before I go into Sophie's exciting (recent) adventure, let me paws (hahahaha!) to tell you about Breaking Cat News a webcomic by Georgia Dunn - it's about her three cats, and other hangers on, as they have news updates about the odd comings and goings of the "People" in their life.  I've found this comic recently, and I cannot express how much joy it gives me.  The other day I was reading the back catalog of comics and I came across this one that was pretty much on topic re: today's topic, (i.e, Sophie).  Enjoy.  (Oh, the white cat is Lupin, the black cat is Puck, and Elvis is the Siamese in the cone.)

Of course one of my concerns about Sophie being in the cone of shame, and then the Onesie, was the ridicule she would receive from her housemates.  Myself included.  She was darned funny in that cone!  I tried to get video of her loping around the condo like a drunken sailor, but I was laughing too hard, and the lighting conditions in the condo that evening were not conducive to producing viral-quality video. 

Anyway, back to the present.  Over the summer, my baby's poor little belly would get better and then get worse.  We went to the vet again during one of the flare-ups, and the doctor basically said this condition - eosinophilic disease - is chronic and she may fight it for the remainder of her life.  As to the instant problem, though, we either deal with it, or we have surgery to remove the area. 

After almost losing her five years ago, I took out a pet insurance policy on Sophie, so the cost would be minimal (assuming insurance paid).  Also I figured the stress and trauma for a finite amount of time for surgery would be less than the stress and trauma of us continually having to nab her and shove her in and out of the Onesie and spray the stuff on her little area.  Plus, if we went ahead and had her surgery, she could recupe and be (sort of) back to normal for Emily when she comes over and cat/condo sits for us at the end of the month when we go to the beach.  I mean, she's being gracious enough to watch the cats for us, the least we could do would be to not make her deal with Sophie and the Onesie!

So the surgery was on!  But first she had to get over the immediate flare-up.  Once that spot cooled down, we had our surgery.  A couple of months ago, I read online about this vet's office that would send a text (with picture) to the owner from the pet once it was out of surgery.  I thought, oh, that's nice!, never thinking that anyone in our house would be having surgery.  While Sophie's vets office did not send me a text or a pic, they did call me to let me know she was out and doing fine, which I thought was very nice.

The surgery was on a Friday.  We chose that day because then I could be home to monitor her over the weekend.  We quarantined her in the upstairs bedroom, and I slept up there with her.  I don't think Gizmo - her litter mate/main source of stress (as only siblings truly can be) - fully understood why not only was I sleeping in a totally different room, but I'd shut him out.  He slept (and tossed a hairball in protest) on the carpet outside the upstairs bedroom door.  I only gave her pain meds Friday night, and then again Saturday morning, mostly to help her sleep and rest, so I could sleep and rest!  I can't afford to have my cat become a drug addict any more than I can afford for me to become one!  Plus, it's just not easy getting oral meds down a cat's throat!  I have the scars to prove it!

The weather that Saturday and Sunday was perfect and when we weren't doing other higher priority stuff, me and the kids were on the balcony lolling in the sunshine.  (Not that the kids ever have higher priority stuff!)  Sophie joined us Sunday, even sleeping in my lap. 

She got her stitches out last Friday, meaning that she could once and for all exit the Onesie!  I told mom that I'd gotten so used to seeing her in cammo that I wouldn't see her when I'd look into a room or  wherever.  Of course, she is solid black, so even in daylight, she blends in with shadows and such.

We now seem to have gotten over our surgery.  Basically she had a little tummy tuck, they used the skin from that floppy area left over as a result of when she was spayed to cover the area they removed.  I'm gonna miss that wobbly bit, though.  It was always so cute swaying in the breeze as she'd jog down the hallway.  Sigh.  Now, though, I can look forward to the beach without the guilt of leaving her!  (Yeah!)

Sharp Dressed Man... er... Cat

When I left the condo this morning, Sophie and Gizmo were peacefully napping on the balcony.  Blatantly rubbing it in that they don’t have any responsibilities and telling me that I should just leave because I was harshing their collective buzz.

 

But I knew that I’d be back.  Mwahahaha!!

 

See, Sophie, my very expensive baby girl, currently has this hot spot on her belly where she cleans it excessively.  Last fall when this happened, the vet prescribe the “Cone of Shame” to keep her from getting at it. 

 

But it was just to pathetically funny watching her bump around the ‘do in it.  So I took his other suggestion, which was to put her in a Onesie.  She didn’t particularly care for the Onesie, but she tolerated it, as it was preferable to the alternative.

 

(I figured that if looks could kill, I wouldn't have made it past last Thanksgiving.)

Now, flash forward to spring, and we are back at it.  The problem with the Onesie is that the only workable way to put a cat in it, is to have its neck hole at butt and tail area, which means that in order for there to be a place for her head to come out, she has to wear it sarong-style… and although it would stay on for a while, I would eventually find it on the floor and her running naked and free!

Amazon – the seller of all things wonderful – suggested to me, in its list of “Things You Might Be Interested In” list, that there’s this thing called the “Suitical” which is basically a Onesie only for animals (i.e., an appropriate number of holes, spaced strategically.)  It’s rather pricey, but I got one for her, thinking it would involve less struggles in getting her “dressed.”  Ha!

She had been wearing her outfit – BTW, it only comes in camo… really!? – anyway, she wore it all weekend, and we took it off of her last night to let things breathe.  Which is why this morning, she was playing dead on the balcony, just hoping I’d leave for work so she could have the whole day free.  What she didn’t know was that Mom was going to wash it this morning, and I (not having my usual Tuesday lunch date) was going to come home over lunch and shove her fuzzy butt into it.

As I left work, I told my co-worker to wish me luck.  I don’t think she did.

I arrived home, and running to greet me at the door is my beautiful fuzzy girl.  By the time I drop everything and make my move to nab her, the synapses in her walnut-sized brain have connected (Mom’s home for lunch + Mom never comes home for lunch + I’m out of my outfit = RUN!)  Now the wise thing to do before starting the nabbing process would be to close all doors.  We were not wise, but we will be next time.  First she runs for the balcony.  That’s fine, there’s a finite amount of places she can hide from me, but they’re all under the chairs and lounge chair, and while I’m moving chairs and trying to reach for her, she runs inside.  To Mom’s bedroom.  Under Mom’s bed.

Mom brings the dust mop, we shut the door, and I get in my catcher’s position.  I can’t possibly describe the Laurel and Hardy-esque things that happened then.  Just assume that it involved Sophie, running in and out of our grasp, and both me and my “older” mother on the floor on our knees.  Eventually we caught her.  Her little heart was a pumping and despite the air conditioning, I was sweating.

I held her in my death grip while Mom squirted the anti-biotic spray on it and we shoved that fuzzy butt into the camo suitical.  Hair a mess and dripping in sweat, we were successful!  And I looked forward to returning to the (relative) calm of the office. 

 

 

Our sweet curmudgeon did her best to stay out of my grasp until I left for work.

I decided I needed a reward for braving a fierce creature with terrifying teeth and talons,

so I went to Sonic on my way back and got me a hot dog and a slushie!