Poor lil' bebbehs!

Goblin and Sister are home now. They got fixed today, and have only been back home for about forty-five minutes. They're zonked out on a blanket in the kitchen.

I worried all day about them, but of course they got through it ok. The drive home broke my heart though.

Sister, having lost a whole internal organ (which makes her appear emmaciated now, svelte thing that she is), is more affected by it than Goblin, who simply sat (very carefully) on one furry butt cheek and leaned drunkenly to the side and a little forward as a result of his procedure. We have one carrier for them and I asked the receptionist this morning if I should get a second one to bring them home separately in. She said no, that they'd be fine, but oh how I was kicking myself for listening to her later.

Goblin, drugged cross-eyed, kept stepping on Sister in the carrier on the way home. More specifically, he kept stepping on her newly hollowed abdomen. Because I had to drive, I couldn't cry, but Sister's agonized scream-yowls each time he accidentally stepped on her wrenched at my heart. What is normally a ten-minute drive seemed like an hour, and each pitiful kitten wail made it feel like the Jeep was going slower than before.

When we finally got home and in the house, Sister threw up. But, ever the tough-one, she wobbled back up onto her feet and - carefully, slowly - weaved her way over to Matt and then over to me, and then back again, demanding to be petted. So, gently, we pet her and told her it was all ok now.

I worry about Goblin's having stepped on her belly, but I've seen no blood, fresh or otherwise, and since getting home and out of the crate there have been to pain sounds at all from either one of them. We're supposed to leave them in the crate for a few hours before letting them out into a closed, quiet area, but I was afraid of Goblin continuing to step and sit on Sister, so we quickly cleared the kitchen and dining room area of any obstacles and things to try to climb on, put the blanket down, and let them out. After drinking some water and sniffing at some food, they both wobbled over to the blanket, carefully arranged themselves on it, and fell asleep.

I keep getting up to check on them and every time I poke my head out of the computer room to see how they're doing, they appear have moved very little, if at all. Goblin just blinked blearily at me, but that's it.

I think they're going to be just fine, but until they actually are, I'll worry.

Poor lil' bebbehs.

EDIT, Saturday, June 14: Matt, who came with me to pick the kittens up and was able to pay more attention to them than I was on the way home, corrected me: Goblin wasn't stepping on Sister. He was standing up, trying to keep his wobbly, woozy balance. Because of the confines of the carrier he was standing over Sister, with just his belly resting on her. Sister was looking around, nervous, probably because of the combination of whatever drug was still very much in their systems and the loudness and not so smooth ride of the Jeep. So those awful wails were not of pain, thankfully (although I imagine she was pretty sore, too, and that added to it), but of just plain old fear. Makes me feel better in one sense, worse in another because you really can't do much for fear except tell them through the bars that it's ok when obviously it's so not.

They're doing much better today. Goblin is almost back to his old self, running around and getting into things. Sister is not quite there, but still very much on the mend. She keeps wanting to play but if she moves too much or moves wrong, she'll stop, tense, and meatloaf up for a few mintues to let her tummy stop hurting before trying again.