George, leg shaved like a poodle's, and stitched
George: wounded warrior. This was taken a week ago. I wanted to take another to show how brilliantly he's healed—it was a deep wound, into the muscle—but, well, he's healed so brilliantly he's dashing about too much to get a picture.
Two weeks ago he tangled with something big. We took him to the kitty ER and they shaved his leg from dewclaw to shoulder, put him under, cleaned out the wound and stitched him up—so one leg looked like it belonged to Dr Frankenstein's poodle. I don't know how many stitches he started with: the minute we opened the cat carrier at home he bolted, tore off his cone of shame, got under the bed and started picking them out; as you can see, most didn't last long 🙄.
But as I say, he's fine now. Except being embarrassed about looking, from certain angles, like a poodle 😄. We're just thankful he's okay. We suspect his adversary was either an eyebrow-raisingly large domestic cat or—more likely, as we didn't hear the characteristic yowl, growl, screech and hiss of a catfight—a raccoon. It's at times like this that I long for All The Monies so we could build an acre of catio for Charlie and George to play in safely.
Until then, perhaps the poodle-leg shame will make him a little more cautious.
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