Today starts the second full day after your surgery. So far you seem to be doing well, although it cannot be comfortable being shaved and having drainage tubes poking out of your stitched up side. I can't believe you didn't tell me right away when the fence cut a four inch hole across your side. Give a girl a heart attack!
I know you think we are torturing you when we give you medicine three times a day, but it is for your own good. I can deal with seeing you in temporary discomfort, but I really don't like seeing you sit there and stare at the wall for a half hour after we give you your pain medicine. It is hard to feel like I can comfort you because you can't speak, and it pains me to wonder what kind of pain you are in. But you are still purring when I rub your head, which means you are doing ok.
You have finally figured out how to sleep with your dreaded cone. The first night was rough, mostly due to you bumping it on my face like every half hour. We call you 'cone head,' which makes us laugh, but it really isn't that funny. Walking is another story. You are still marching when you walk and think there is someone behind you. Also I saw you finally figure out how to eat with it on. Only two more weeks and then we can take it off.
What really makes my mind spin is that you are the same lovey dovey lady bug Jane as you always are, giving me kisses and nuzzling in my arms. I thought you would be angry and want to be alone all the time, but I was wrong. I can barely get out of bed in the morning because you are so glued to my chest. When I have to go out and I stop to say goodbye, you are clingy and try to attach yourself to me, purring and chatting all the while.
Yes, Jane, you are truly a mysterious creature, full of love. There is no way that the money we paid for your surgery was any more important than your life. You are my sweet baby Jane and I will do my best to care for you so that you can be well again. You are very special indeed, and I love you so much I could cry.