The tiny center of my universe

My cat Connie is only 6.5 lbs. Yet she has dominated everything this month. Making her well has been my sole focus.

She had surgery on April 2. Since she received stitches, she had to wear the cone, I couldn't let her roam around the condo when I wasn't watching. She could get stuck or slip out of it. Also, she had to stay very clean, and left to their own devices cats can slip into the dustiest part of the house you just can't reach. So when I wasn't home or was asleep, Connie was locked in the bathroom for her own safety. She's such a sweet, adaptable girl! She never cried. She just made do with her makeshift litter pan (a shirt box I lined with a small trash bag) and her water dish (a Lean Cuisine tray, because it was shallow and wide to accommodate her cone). I kept her carrier in my bathtub because cats like small spaces and I thought she might like go in there to sleep. I enjoyed our special "girl time" together before bed, when I'd slather on moisturizer, brush my teeth and put in my mouth guard. 

It was also in the bathroom that she got her meds. I squirted two different liquids down her throat – an antibiotic and a painkiller. Then I had to apply ointment to an area which was an assault to her dignity and mine. Yet she never resisted. I think on some level she trusted that I was trying to make her well.

On April 18, the vet finally removed the stitches and declared her well. No more meds! No more cone! No more time in solitary confinement in the bathroom! There was much rejoicing.

I'm grateful. Grateful that it wasn't more serious. Grateful that I had the resources to get her the medical attention she needed. Grateful to get my bathroom back! Grateful that she's well in time for me to go to the TCM Film Festival next week. Grateful that she is her sweet little self again.

Most of all, I'm grateful to be able to sleep soundly again. People with human children – how do they do it? Do they just reconcile themselves to worrying for 18 to 21 years?