kickaha | Undead kitties aren't much fun...

The fentanyl pain patch applied after her surgery needed to come off on Sunday according to the vet. "You can bring her back in, or, well heck, you can just take it off at home."

Riiiiiiiiiiiight.

Now, item #1: the instructions regarding the patch in the after-care documentation act like it is toxic waste. "Consider wearing gloves." "In no case touch the medicated portion of the patch." "When it is removed, IMMEDIATELY fold the patch adhesive side to adhesive side, dispose of by flushing down the toilet. After doing so, IMMEDIATELY wash hands with soap and water, several times." Cool.

Item #2: Vet said it could be 'easily' removed. Cool.

Item #3: Vet said that if she gave me any problems, to give her a sedative. I have acepromazine ('ace') on hand for just that - she'd had it twice before and it worked great.

So Sunday I take a look at her leg, or try to. She is Not Happy(tm) about it. I finally determine that there's no way I can remove the tape - not that she won't let me, but I *can't physically pull the tape layers apart*. It's like it's made with epoxy! And there are five layers. Off to get the bandage scissors... and I can't find them. Lovely. I consider them an essential part of a first aid kit, so this bugs me. I head to drug store. *They don't carry them.* WTF?? I head to another drug store. Same deal. A third. The same. I'm sorry, but what the hell??

I decide I can't get the tape off until Monday when I can try and hit the medical supply store in town.

So Monday I do that. Whoo. (Clerk says he's not surprised no one will carry them, no one wants liability... but he won't tell me liability over *what*. I mean, what the fuck?)

I get home, try to snip tape. Nuh-uh. Cat is Really Not Happy(tm). So, an ace goes down her throat. Still Really Not Happy(tm), but at least she'll be happily drugged in a bit, so I let her be for an hour.

I come back, and... something isn't right. For one thing, she's not walking right. Her rear legs are almost nonfunctional. This didn't happen before. For another, she's... autistic. I may as well not exist. She decides also that she's invulnerable, and has super strength, and of COURSE she can jump straight over that 6' cardboard wall and get out of her pen!

Now this is bad. Very bad. Jumping is on the Never Ever Allow List, and here she's jumping straight up 2+' and then having her legs collapse when she hits the floor. On a just-operated-on knee. Um, bad? I try and distract her - nope, she's *fixated*. *Obsessed*. I am just plain not in the room as far as she's concerned.

Normally, this is a cat that I can say her name in a stern voice, snap my fingers, and she stops whatever she's doing, and mentally puts it in the forbidden heap. No, really, she's really good about it, and learns fast. This time? No way in HELL.

I pick her up, she growls, and I get a claw 1/4" into my palm. I can't drop her, because that'd hurt the knee. I can't get her to let go, either. This is problematic. I finally get her disengaged, and on the floor. Yup, nice hole in my hand.

She finally gets a bit more calm, but is still yowling incessantly, and eyeing the top of the cardboard wall, and I realize there's no way in hell I can leave her alone. I decide I need dinner, and in the kitchen, the only thing to jump on is counters, which are on the Forbidden List, so I figure it's worth a shot keeping her in there with me while I get some food. I get her picked up finally, and get her downstairs to the kitchen.

She spends the next 20 minutes trying to fit under the door, hurting her own head in the process. Lovely. She is now going more than a little bonkers, thrashing around quite a bit, and biting the papers and cardboard in the recycling. Again, I may as well not be there. I lift her *off the floor* when she won't stop biting a pizza box. She finally is separated from it when a piece rips off in her teeth.

I decide something is definitely not right with this cat, and her drugs. I wait until she calms down, and pick her up to take her back upstairs to the OK Corral. Halfway through the living room, she sinks her teeth into my shoulder without warning. No yowl, no growl, just BITES. Normally I enjoy a good set of teeth around my shoulder muscles, but this is just not fun.

I manage to her detached, feeling a bit like the pizza box, and get her on the floor without any more punctures, and realize I'm never going to get her upstairs again, nor back into the kitchen. She starts ripping up the carpet with her teeth. I yell at her. I scream at her. I pound the floor right next to her. Nope, no reaction.

So... I grab the laundry basket. Yup, I put the laundry basket over her. I had nothing else handy, no one else was home, and it was at this point in time that

ginkgo came home, to find me pushing down on the basket *hard*, while the cat is *lifting the damned thing several inches off the floor*, and screaming. I'm yelling at the cat, the cat is screaming back, and ginkgo said it looked like a scene from Dead Alive with a zombie cat clawing its way out of the floor.

With her there to hold it down, I called the ER at the vet to ask what the hell had gone wrong? They said that the fentanyl should have been completely out of her system by then, and they didn't know what had happened, but that the ace entry in the database did say that it was possible it could cause 'increased aggression, irritability, and obsessive behaviour'. *ding ding ding* Appointment was made for Tuesday to have tape removed. (Oh, the receptionist was a *dork* at this point - "Just use adhesive remover." (<- dripping with condescension) "Right. And where would I get that at 7pm tonight??" "Oh.")

Ginkgo said I needed to get away for a bit, and offered to take over for a bit. Heh. Be my guest. I came home to find the cat in a cardboard box, duct taped shut, and her with a SERIOUS bite on her shoulder. Yup, she'd tried to pick her up too. She's now on antibiotics, has four puncture wounds, and a serious bruise between them.

We did punch air holes in the box, but there was some serious discussion over that one.

Cat spent all night in the box (ace takes 12-15 hrs to completely get metabolized out), the next morning went right to the vet, where they removed the tape and her sutures too, so we saved a second trip. Brought her back home, and she *crawled right back into the damned box*. Stayed there until this morning. This is ironic, see, because she not only ripped large chunks out of the ends of the box from the inside, but almost dug through the floor to China to get *out*.

Ginkgo is on antibiotics, her shoulder stopped throbbing tonight, my hand is healing, the cat is back to her normal princess self, and now we just wait out the recovery time.

Nice kitty.

*sigh*