Just in case you were wondering about the outcome of our little vet visit:

She also got stapled back together. These are the consequences of clandestine late-night suture chewing.

She doesn’t like moving around, since she keeps getting the collar stuck on things, so she tends to just stand in the middle of the room and look at us pitifully. Matt got her to lie down on her bed (i.e. helped her) and now she’s looking at us pitifully from over there, but still apparently following the “it’s safer not to move” mentality.

I’m torn between pity and extreme amusement.

When we woke up this morning, we discovered that Shiloh apparently ate her stitches last night. Odd, because they didn’t seem to be bothering her much, and then all of a sudden they’re completely gone (no, they’re not the dissolvey kind) and her wound isn’t quite healed yet. So we’ll take her in to the vet this afternoon and see if she needs to be fastened back together for a few more days or if they think she’s okay. There aren’t any blood or guts or anything, don’t worry. And she doesn’t seem to be in excess pain now that the stitches are gone. Just very odd.

On the other hand, I’ve written 7,500 words in the last three days, which I think might be a record for me. Granted, they’re not words for my thesis novel, but I’m trying not to dwell on those kinds of details. 7.5k in one weekend! Woo!

How’s your weekend?