Well, the little Gray Kitty is back home, minus his penis and testicles, with a re-routed urethra. He's in a lot of pain, of course, but is still putting on a brave face. Poor thing. His back end looks like hamburger sewn together. It's not a pretty picture, I know. Sorry. He's facing a six week recovery time, minimum, three weeks of it in a large dog crate to keep him isolated. We're doing our best to keep him medicated, fed, watered, and loved. Ah, our poor little Gray Kitty.
I've been so incredibly stressed out over him that I've basically eaten our entire refrigerator. I've got to think of a new way to deal with stress than entire pizzas, green chile cheeseburgers, fries, and brownies. Those don't really help in the long run. Also not helping: Feeling tied to home in case something happens with this little guy. I did make it out to the gym early on Thursday, but that meant that Dave took the morning off from work to stay with him. Not a great solution.
So, hopefully this is a new beginning.
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