Pixie woke up from her nap with a serious case of beadhead:
And yet she’s still sleepy:
That’s a yawn, by the way, not a demonic possession. Could be confusing.
You can also see, in that second pic, the little scars on her muzzle where the raccoon got her. It managed to completely miss the nose, lips, eyes… basically anything sensitive… and just hit the top of the snout there, for which I’m thankful. The vet said he was VERY surprised that she got out that lightly from a raccoon attack, as they normally don’t back down and fight furiously with cruel claws and tearing teeth. (That’s not a direct quote, ’cause my vet isn’t as much of an alliteration fanatic as I.) He said that if he’d just seen the wounds and hadn’t been told, he’d’ve said it was a cat who got a couple of swats in as it was being treed; said he’d NEVER guess raccoon. We got lucky.
She got another rabies shot, despite having had her three-year booster only a year ago, ’cause that’s protocol apparently. And we just finished her run of antibiotics, which was probably totally unnecessary, but we do err on the side of caution when it comes to the puppymonsters.
The vet also felt the need to tell me that had she not been up-to-date on her rabies, even if she were only a month behind, Animal Control would make me quarantine her in a veterinary facility at my own expense for six months! Then he said, “So, I just want to congratulate you and just… let you know to keep that up!” It kinda felt like he was trying to scare me and then realized he was being mean so he turned it into a “good job” speech. I was horrified.
I still love my vet.
And my widdle tousle-eared sweetums.