Our dear little Vivian is recuperating from a coyote attack. At least that is our best guess, after her vet in Gander said the wounds under her tail came from four large canine teeth, too large to be another cat, weasel or mink.
There are no roaming dogs in the vicinity, but there have been plenty of coyote sightings around the shore and right here in Newtown. Needless to say, our cats will never go out in the evening or night again. After almost nine years of outdoor escapades since we moved here from the city, this is the first time anything like this has happened. Darn coyotes!
Chelsea the vet sedated her, stitched her up, and administered an antibiotic dose good for two weeks. We gave her anti-inflammatory medicine for seven days and oodles of TLC.
Her sutures come out on Wednesday, and we can’t wait. The past eleven days have been tough, mostly due to the joys of the Elizabethan collar. Vivian was depressed at first, but a few days ago she snapped back to her old silly self, chasing Maisie around the house. So funny to see Maisie run away, apparently spooked by the contraption on her sister’s head (she usually play-fights back).
Everything will work out, Vivian. We’re so grateful we didn’t lose you.
And I’m sure you have at least five or six lives left in you yet.