5:55 A.M. and all is well in Effieland

We were up, and ten days post-op, Effie’s toes touched down on the soil and grasses of her beloved Effieland.

A pounding thunderstorm came through last night, and I was anxious it might postpone Effie’s long-awaited re-entry, but the early morning was calm and quiet.

Bugs were flying about, and Effie after them. Birds had entered through the netting, but Effie chased them out. She munched grass with ecstasy.

I used a flash for the 5:55 photo, as it was still very dark outside. The other photos I took around 8:00, when the sun was always at odds with Effie and the foliage. Hence the photos are more commemorative than picture perfect.

p10202795:55 A.M.: Having just bounded into the gated garden known as Effieland, Effie immediately commences a survey of her vast holdings.

p1020280She finds the grasses as delicious as always.

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She has places to go, subjects to check on.

p1020285Tabby Effielander has landed.

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Hang in there, Effie–Friday’s coming!

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All but two stitches are dry and gone; the two remaining are dry and nearly dissolved. The Effielander will return to her realm and its choice hunting grounds on schedule.

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3-day countdown–and Effie is ready to resume her dominion

Effie has just three more days, counting today, of indoor-only recovery. The seven days behind us have been mercifully tranquil. The few mini-tantrums, aka yowling jags, have been brief, coming nowhere near the intensity and duration of her time in heat. The cause of her suffering–and ours–still grates on me. No cat should have to be subjected to surgery twice to be effectively spayed! But it happens.

Her sutures are fading, and she keeps them immaculately clean. She looks out the window overlooking Effieland and mews to go out, but I’m usually able to distract her with petting and toys. I know Halvor misses her. He comes for lunch three times a day, plus breakfast and dinner.

She watches birds through the windows and clicks her teeth. She’ll be back, she warns them. She’s never taken one down. The ones small enough to enter Effieland through the overhead bird netting stay off the ground and out of her reach. This does not thwart her determined hunting aspirations. Effie is a world-class huntress of bugs.

Effie’s regency in Effieland will resume early Friday morning. Our autumn has been sunny and mild, with plenty of bugs.

Here is our sanguine princess at rest and at play on the bed.

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Fishing along Asotin Slough

We fished the Snake River along Asotin Slough in our skiff Companion Star yesterday.  I felt several nibbles on my line, but each nibble seemed to result in the nibbler suddenly recalling a previous engagement.  By mid-day, two nearly foot-long Smallmouth bass had nibbled and opted to come home with us.

My husband took all but the first photo; I took the panorama. We both love the basalt formations of the canyon.

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Y’all wanna see my scar?

p1020256“How presumptuous!” But all right. . .”

p1020258“There!”

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Seven more days. . .

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Cats like Cats.

Effie’s surgical follow-up orders require her to remain indoors for 10 days. Outdoors, she would roll in her precious garden dirt, and it is imperative to keep her sutures from infection. She has regained her pluck and recalled that yowling normally opens the door and frees her to enjoy her oversight of Effieland.  It is heartrending for me to see her so frustrated, but keeping her incision clean is a higher priority right now even than her love of fresh air, munching grasses, and bug safaris. She has no way, of course, to grasp this reasoning–she’s a random abstract and we who are charged with her successful recovery are concrete sequential types.

She is finding things to see and do around the house, and I’ve been able so far to distract her somewhat from her thwarted longings and her wailing. Just seven more days, Effie, Princess of Wails. . .

 

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Effie, as she recovers

p1020243Effie likes being on top of things. . .

p1020244She expects her self-determination to establish what she may and may not do. . .

p1020245And life goes contentedly on.

 

Effie sat by the window, then by the door, miffed that hints that she wanted to go outside were ignored. It was hard on me, too; but Effieland has dirt in which she delights to roll, and dirt severely compromises healing of surgical incisions. Nine more days, Luvmuffin. . .

Her yowling behavior has subsided almost completely. She slept on our bed last night.

This morning, after her requests to go out were ignored, quick and agile as ever, she leaped onto the counter and then to the cabinet above it before we could stop her. Our aftercare orders included no jumping or running.  I checked her incision when she came down from her nap more than two hours later: thankfully, all is intact. I believe Effie apprehends her limits better than most people.

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