Recently our kittens had to wear cones after surgery. Their reactions captured their personalities and some basic differences in approaches to life’s troubles.
The cone disturbed Bo mightily. He didn’t know what to make of it and he immediately became miserable. I’m trapped in a cone. This is terrible. He dragged himself backwards until he hit a corner, where he hunched down and gave up.
Initially, Leo also wigged out and dragged himself backwards. But he quickly adapted. I guess now I’m a cat who — wears a cone. Okay! Within a few minutes he had evolved an odd but successful, neck-craned gait and had found new ways to pursue his favorite pastime, playing with tiny pieces of crud.
Arrow rebelled against the whole concept of cones. As soon as we put a cone on her, she began whipping her head from side to side and pawing the cone’s edges. No way am I wearing this, get this @#&%$ thing off me. She had it removed and hurled across the room within about 10 seconds.
So far, I have gone through life with responses on the Arrow-Bo spectrum, but I aspire to become more like Leo. How about you?