The countdown begins..

T-minus seven days until cone-off and counting..

This is a contradiction to an earlier post. Last week, I thought cone-off day was today. Why?  That's what our written discharge instructions said. 

The warden claimed the instructions conflicted with her memory of what the surgeon told her. 

"He said 3-weeks cone-on recovery until stitches are removed."

"No honey, you're wrong. Look, says right here two weeks.  Black-and-white, irrefutable proof!"

So I email the doc to clear this all up. "Oops! Sorry for the mix up! Your wife is right, and the instructions are wrong."  Foiled again. One day I day I will be right and she will be wrong. I guess that's why she's the warden. 

T-Minus six days until cone-off and counting....

Against all odds, warrior-princess Genghis Raven managed to expand her empire this week.

Not content with her given circumstances (1-room isolation), Raven decided to bust into the closet. Somehow, she forced her body through the very small gap between the two sliding doors.

Where the is a will, there is a way. She discovered there was just enough flex in the doors, and give in the bottom track to force her way through.

We decided to respect her right to her newly conquered territory. Added some kitty comforts to the closet floor. Now she is looking quite smug about her accomplishment. Nothing is sweeter than the fruits of self-determination.

T-minus FIVE days until cone-off and counting…

MAJOR news day!

Took Raven to a vet appointment. It was scheduled the day we took her home from surgery. Purpose: incision check.

I decided to accompany the warden for this one, because I had a hidden agenda. I wanted to see if I could shave a few days off Raven’s cone/confinement sentence. After all, doesn’t exactly 3-weeks seem a bit arbitrary? Why not 3-weeks minus 1-3 days? Any small reduction would be significant for us, and our hard-to-handle inmate.

I came prepared with some oral arguments.

“Thanks Doctor, I’m glad you agree the incision looks great. Now that you’ve examined it, would you consider a slight reduction in the time until suture removal & cone-off? Maybe a day or two? Or three?

“Sounds reasonable. I could have the surgery team examine and consult if you don’t mind waiting (she’s Raven’s oncologist).”

“Great. Thanks!”

Result: Raven returns to us with sutures taken out and all restrictions on activity removed (cone stays on until Monday).

HALLELUJAH!!! I was a hero to my wife, and a champion to my pet! Freedom baby! All due to my brilliant negotiation skills. I should be a kitty attorney. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, if the incision healing is legit, then the sentence don’t fit!”

Again, my hero status was short-lived. Raven’s transition to the free world turned out to be quite chaotic. She doesn’t understand her limitations. She was all over the house wanting to climb everything climbable, jump everything jumpable, and even earned herself a couple of SWATS from our other cat, Abby.

Warden: “You know, you really should have thought this through better.”
“Sorry, I was excited for Raven. Am I back on probation?”
“Yup.”

She’s right. I knew the household transition would present some challenges, but I thought I had five more days to think about it. I intended to research tripawds for good advice on doing it right. I had already thought of some immediate concerns, such as: How does one “teach” a cat they only have three of four shock absorbers for jumping off tall objects? Is that even possible? What are some smart strategies for making access to high areas easier? Looks like we’re going to have to learn fast.

We decided to put Raven back in the padded room, and allow her only highly-supervised time around the rest of the house.

Problem: Raven doesn’t agree. HUGE protest about being confined in the padded cell now that she’s tasted freedom.

Warden: “Look at what you’ve done!”
“Sorry.”

The other problem with room confinement is Raven, as of today, has proven very adept at getting out of her cone. It has happened four times today. Not sure how she’s doing it, but it may be associated with her violent effort to claw through the door. The last time I peeked in and discovered her sans-cone, she gave me a glaring look that said, “Look buddy, you seem to be a slow learner. Here’s the deal.. You can have me confined to this room, or have my cone on, but you can’t have both. Pick one!” She now has run of the house, for better or worse.

It turns out there is only one brilliant negotiator in our house.. a tiny, five pound cat named Raven.