The cats are the toughest members of our household. I have to throw water on either Alice or Olive at least once a week because they are either starting a fight, or trying to kill something. Two weeks ago I awoke to a robin flying around our bedroom and Ryan trying desperately to catch it. Olive hadn't harmed it at all, just brought it in for us to see. For the rest of the day, after Ryan got it back outside, that bird sat in our front tree and glared at us all. Olive glared right back.
Of course, the rule in life is that if you are going to be tough, you are going to get hurt. Right now, Olive is hurt. She came in three weeks ago with a bite wound. It was treated, she took antibiotics, and we thought it was over. Then, last Friday, she came inside with what really looked like Halloween makeup on her side. A wound the size of a quarter had opened, with various parts and whatnot visible underneath. I tried to clean it up. There was no cleaning. We took her to the vet. Even the vet recoiled. When she finally came home, Olive had two drains, 17 staples, and was wearing the cone of shame.
She has been wearing it since.
While the cone may be difficult for Olive, we are enjoying it quite a bit. It's really funny when she thinks she is licking her wound, and actually is just licking the inside of the cone. Oh, and it is great watching her thinking she can walk past something, only to get her cone hung up. The cone also makes it much easier to give Olive her super-duper antibiotic because, when she spits it out, it lands in the cone and we can just put it back in. Perfect. When it seems like it is really bugging her we just give her some of her painkiller. The beef flavored pain killer. No one better tell Anthony Bourdain about it, or that might kill his sobriety.
Really, the only problem with the cone is when Olive wants to cuddle -- in the middle of the night. There is nothing quite like being awakened with claws in your arm, and a cone scraping your face. Oh, and the drool spilling out of it due to her sleepy state from the painkillers. Beef flavored painkillers.
After all of this Ryan suggested just keeping he cats inside. No fights. No stitches. No drugs. No cones of shame. No 200 dollar vet bills.
I don't think he realizes that the current situation is much less complicated.
After all, we aren't that tough.