Missy will not be making any babies in the future.  When I brought her home after her surgery, she was in a bad way.  Drunk as a skunk would pretty much cover it.  She wobbled, she fell over, she walked backward, she was cross-eyed.

The vet said to keep her from licking the incision, so I finally put a collar on her--you know the "Elizabethan" collar.  I should have had a movie camera.  She was hysterically funny, but I finally had to take the collar of as she was getting hysterical.  Poor thing.  She's a little psycho anyway, and I didn't want to send her over the edge.  However...there was still the problem of keeping her from licking the incision.  And she was very persistent on that score.  Finally the light bulb lit up.  I smeared Mentholatum around the incision, not on it, but around it.  On the shaved belly.  Whooo! that did it.  She tried to walk away from herself.  But she stopped licking the incision.

Took Miss Beauty back for her post-op check, and she was doing fine.  She had an elevated temp, but the vet put that down to stress.  I think Missy has a higher than normal temp, anyway.  She's a regular little furnace.  She was supposed to have a second check-up last Thursday, but I completely blew it.  I looked at the calendar, too, and nothing registered.  So I have to call tomorrow, oops today (it's past midnight), and apologize, and get another appointment.

I've given up all hope of hormonal mellowing of said cat.  Ain't gonna happen.  She's still eying the front door, and I'm sure she'll make a dash one of these days.  But I don't have to worry about some hungry Tom wandering into the neighborhood.  Oh, yes, she was in estrus when I took her in.  If I'd waited until this month when she was actually six months old, I'd probably be watching an expectant mother swell and swell and swell.

And that reminds me.  The last time she got out, she ran across the way to the upstairs patio of the apartment on the other side of the sidewalk.  I was on the stairs, halfway up, trying to coax her to come to me.  The guy who lives downstairs came out, and thought he'd help corner my cat. She saw this stranger coming at her, and she JUMPED from the second story, and made a super-sonic dash for the open door of my apartment.  This was after her surgery, and I just knew she'd ruptured some stitches.  Thank all the catly gods, she was intact and no worse for wear.  However, when I got back to the apartment, she was in the hallway all wide-eyed and discombobulated.  No more so than I.

And I thought KK was crazy.

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Thursday was Leisure League luncheon again.  As usual, the food was excellent.  There was a serving of meatless meatloaf that was quite good.  I should have gotten the recipe.

The entertainment was a string quartet from the Sacramento Youth Symphony.  What talent.  Two sixteen year olds and two seventeen year olds.  Three violins and a cello.

The young man who was the lead violinist was poised and professional.  And hugely talented.  I'm not crazy about strings, but I do love the mellow cello.  Which instrument was very ably played by a sixteen year old girl.  The last encore was the cello's starring piece.  I tried to watch the young woman's fingering and bowing at the same time, but gave up and watched the fingering.  I wish I could remember the name of the piece they played.  This young woman's hands were slim, and her fingers long and slim, and I wouldn't have guessed that she played anything larger than a violin.  Slim and feminine, but very strong.  Her performance was flawless.

An enjoyable day, even though I missed Missy's vet appointment.

Shalom