Had a minor tragedy last week. I had to take my fur-kid (Buck) to the vet Thursday morning because he's been fighting with the neighbor cat, and had a huge abscess that burst Wednesday night (boy was THAT fun). -- I told him if he kept fighting with the neighbor "kid" he'd end up at the vet, but did he listen?? -- So, I got him home after work all drugged up, with a cone on his head (OK, so it was hilarious, but I had to TRY not to laugh at him... out loud.).
I left for a concert (Marc Broussard and Toby Lightman. FABULOUS!), and hubby hadn't gotten home yet. He was leaving that night for an overnight hike. I got home at 11:30. No Buck. I looked everywhere in the house. Had my neglectful husband let my drugged-out-cone-for-a-head cat out of the house!?!? Yep.
So I searched for over an hour for him, and was totally distraught. I thought he probably wandered off in his drug-induced state and gotten lost or stuck somewhere in his cone. I thought I'd lost him. I changed for bed and decided to try one last time. So I threw on a robe and went outside. After a few minutes I heard a rustling. There was Buck, moving as slow as molasses doing the get-this-off-my-head march. I was so relieved I cried. Boy, I don't know what I would have done if I had lost him. I've gotten so attached to the little rascal. Well, just look at how adorable (and hilarious I might add) he is, even in his cone.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqSVr9E6xoAqkUHBX0vv6n85OKD6FZhT7wMh45EtUssK55EXOyyvJY_oKboBncCuDH4kxYC2NaK6T42FrZzq1HqyoKTHQ-SIAECyQ9I77ye-kxZW6FAWyIsz75B6HEMXa7dtp7/s320/conehead2.jpg)
And this, I think, is why he took so long coming home. He'd get the cone caught on something and just stop. Like it would release him if he just waited long enough.