Those among you who have read last week’s entries will recall that we had taken Etta and Gus in for their declawing.
Of course, I do know that there are those of you who also drop in here once ever week or so and read backwards…So skip back a week and read forward for once.
Anyway, to the cats.
I dropped them off shortly after 7 a.m. on Wednesday. They had their surgery that day–not finishing with Gus until sometime around 2, and I know this because I called like a worried father. They spent the night–together, at least, thanks to the techs at the vet–kenneled at the vet, and then most of Thursday so that they could be observed for a bit and wait for us to get off of work to pick them up.
When the tech briefed us on what we needed to know about our freshly dulled kittens, she asked (only half-seriously, I think) if they could keep them because they are just so damned cute. We respectfully disagreed, especially since we’d already paid the bill for two declawings and the overnight stay and the pain killers they’d be taking for the next couple of days. Since we got them, we’ve sunk somewhere between “gasp!” and “holy moly!” on them. Nearly as bad as kids. Except that they’re cuter.
So we took them home.
Once they settled down, they both seemed happy to be home and with their people again. And over the last few days that they’ve been home, they’ve been settling in to their new (front) clawless existence, and gradually feeling less discomfort each day.
And my legs and arms appreciate very much the lack of front claws.
See you tomorrow.