Kitty Party Cards

It's common knowledge that my recent months have been cat-focused. I wonder if I'll turn into a crazy old Brooklyn cat lady. I doubt it, but I am getting older tomorrow and noticing that cat birthday cards are coming in. My cousin bought the one above in London months ago and carted it back to the States. How great is that? Below you can see that Glenwood looks excellent in front of it. Timmy has been preoccupied with other things.

One White, Broken Whisker

Finally, she went to sleep in the right light when my camera was nearby.

Meet Wilson

My friends Mike and Leah's kitten, Wilson, was spayed the same day as Glenwood. Both kittens have ambiguous names that have people call them "he." None of the parents are very forgiving of that.

Wilson lives in Queens, where the veterinary community takes a whole other approach to post-spay fashion. No Elizabethan cone for Wilson, but instead a smart, well-fitted, sleeveless sweater, with a slight faux turtleneck. You'll note the sharp-edged armhole (leghole?) cutout reveals an adventurous approach, even as the color is decidedly conservative.

Glenwood at the Oscars

I'm a bit delayed in posting this, but Glenwood watched the Oscars wearing her best cone. She has a particular fondness for Alec Baldwin (understandable).

Glenwood and Timmy also spend time in the cat-food cupboard. There was little that the cone stopped Glenwood from doing, and the whole thing was hilarious. Glenwood just typed the following:

v

b

She is cone-free now and seems very happy. (Or is vb very bored? Uh-oh.) I'll post some new pictures soon. She just crawled into my lap.

Escape Artist

When I went out today, I closed Glenwood in my bedroom with her Elizabethan collar intact. When I got home and opened the door, she ran out collar-free. Here's what I found:

She's also enjoying her moments of freedom with Timmy (and the elephant).

Conewood

The deed is done; Glenwood was spayed yesterday. All went beautifully, and now she's home with her Elizabethan collar. Of course she's been hilarious, and her usual stubborn insistent self. Even with her in my bedroom and separated from Timmy most of the time, she's managed to stretch anyone's idea of what the day after surgery should be. Let's see, she:

• got under my dresser, wearing the cone
• chased Timmy, wearing the cone
• knocked down the luaun barrier I put up, wearing the cone (twice)
• edited an e-mail, wearing the cone (see below)
• unearthed new and lost toys, wearing the cone

I've taken it off a couple of times to give her a break and allow her some bathing time, but she of course doesn't note the incision in her shaved belly. So I keep her away from that until I've had enough of fencing and blocking and put the cone back on. Now I see she's bathing as if the cone weren't on, which means she gets into some weird position and licks the inside of the cone. She is also sleeping quite a bit, and purring a ridiculous amount.

And finally, finally, I got a photo of the one white, broken whisker, which she has somehow held onto all this time.

Sound of Silence

As soon as I walked in the door yesterday, I knew Glenwood was out of heat. The entire apartment felt different ... stilled. The howling, hyperhyperactive, crazed fur monster who had taken over her 6.7-pound body was gone and my kitten was back. It's like having a different animal, all sweetness now.

The spay is on for Friday. And if it doesn't quiet her down as I'd hoped before she went into heat, I will be fully satisfied never, ever to hear Glenwood bark again.