Well, it took the doc about an hour to rip the manliness out of my cats and sew them shut again. I brought them home and then spent an hour watching them lurchin across the floor and stumbling over their own little paws. Now I know why we humans get our own wakeup room for coming out of surgery. At least they still knew where to find the litter box.
Frankie emptied his stomach over my old carpet and the tilings, but since he hadn't had anything to eat for 12 hours, there was just some white wetness which was easy to clean up. No other aftereffects. Apart from that empty feeling where one would expect a solid chunk of ... uhm... cat mojo, of course.
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