I had a stressful 24 hours yesterday: Our boy kitty got into some scrap over the weekend. He's so scrappy and abscess-prone that I have an agreement with our vet: if I find a wound or big scratch on him, my vet will prescribe a course of antibiotics without seeing him first.
Anyway, this last one looked very painful and it was more than a territorial skirmish. He was limping and sore, and worrying over his paw.
I caught it in time before it did abscess, but Licorice was sent home with pain meds, antibiotics and the Cone of Shame. And strict instructions to stay inside with the collar on for a week.
It hasn't even been 24 hours before our son accidentally let him out. I called for him and went looking a dozen times yesterday to no avail. I was really worried that he would strangle or get hurt worse with that thing around his neck, and Boydoll felt horrible. Last night I woke up a couple hours after I went to bed, and thought I'd try one more time. I was enormously relieved to hear him banging into things in the driveway, trying to get to me.
I was so worried that he wouldn't come home. He was gone over 12 hours, and I was so sad. Even with the cone, he was head butting and purring while I fussed over him and he slept quietly the whole night. My poor man must've been exhausted!