No heart for writing the past few days and less time to compose a blog post. But I’ll fill you in on why: This weekend my gorgeous black cat returned home after a week-and-a half disappearance. She had been in a horrendous fight that tore the skin completely away from her right lower jaw, crimped her left ear bloody and left her covered with scratches. Needless to say, I was sick over it although she seemed otherwise healthy and starved for both water and affection.
She underwent surgery to repair a broken jaw on Saturday and returned home late yesterday. She feels so much better despite the ordeal and the mouthful of fresh wires. The veterinarian determined that her injuries were inconsistent with an animal bite and were more likely cause by an encounter with car, whether on the street or under the hood – a dangerous but popular place for cats. I couldn’t imagine what had gotten a hold of her, but thank goodness she is all right.
She is recovering in blissful isolation on my sun porch where she will remain for the next eight weeks, lapping up luxury like cream from a China saucer. This stay in the Kitty Waldorf no doubt will make a house cat of an outdoor cat and will seal my relationship with her further. We are dear friends. Her sister and boyfriend live here, too. (Now there's a threesome!) And she even gets along with the rude boys – my rowdy but lovable dogs.
$242.90. That’s what kitty jaw surgery and meds will run you these days. I thought it would be worse, so I shan’t complain. The buffer to the financial sting is that I did manage to figure out my story for the holiday novella I must write. No, it won’t have to do with cats, other than to say that pussy does figure into the plot. Well, of course, people! It’s erotic romance!