how not to "don't freak out"...

i had TWO glasses of "emergency" red wine at like three o'clock this morning. true story! my kitten spent yesterday at the vet having her lady-parts disconnected, and my favorite animator prefaced her returning with the phrase, "don't freak out", before  handing the carrier bag to me. her belly was shaved, which i expected, and her head was encased in a plastic cone-of-shame!

there were no cones when the other two girls got the "snip", so this is new territory for me... and i am not handling it well. the first hour or two were especially painful (for me, that is). she was still incredibly groggy from the anesthesia, but she refused to remain in the "comfy spot" i had established for her, on the sofa next to me. i had the brilliant idea to give her a small bowl of milk, which she drank enthusiastically, before (thankfully) falling into a deep sleep.

of course, when she came through the other side of said sleep, she was far-less groggy... and far-more determined to get her head out of that piece of plastic. so, naturally, she has spent every waking moment running around like a lunatic, trying (and failing) to break free. it was equal parts amusing and cringe-inducing to see her back up and attempt (repeatedly) to run into the long, skinny cardboard box we left in the hallway for her to use as a "tunnel".

it contained the rails for our bed frame, and the other cats are both too big to crawl through there, so it has been her personal cat-cave. i fully expected to wake up and find her wedged cone-first in the entrance to said space. these two weeks better fly by rapidly, because she is one intensely-overactive kitty, and that cone is getting in the way... which is why i found myself experiencing a minor panic-attack at three in the morning.

him: i don't understand why you're freaking out. she'll be okay.
me: she is a lunatic, and i don't want her to do anything that might rip out her stitches, because i would probably pass out if she starts bleeding anywhere.
him: why would that bother you? you used to do surgery on animals.
me: yeah... that was like two personalities ago. this is my cat. she's not supposed to be bleeding for any reason.

then she started running around again, banging cone-first into every surface along the way... then i went searching for a bottle of wine. do not even get me started on the acid re-flux, tingling in the left-hand (a.k.a., "the heart-attack hand"), headache, hyperventilation, and tears... and all of that before the three AM wine-emergency. it is going to be a long two weeks.

(and... yes... that is a Santa stocking hanging over the fireplace. i will muster enough caring to move it... one of these days.)