That’s nice. Lorin is too, but he’s very tiny at only 8 pounds. My mom’s cat only fits on your lap if you cross your legs the wide way, almost Indian-style, and then droops off the edge. And you need good support.
Oh, I see. Yes, the cone-of-shame really depresses a kitty, and telling them how regal they look in their Elizabethan collar does nothing to lift their spirits.
In the end, I had to pursue him with a flashlight into somebody’s front “garden”, between their wall and the street, full of shrubbery, distract him with some leaves, and then make a flying tackle.
Speaking of which, I got a text from him early yesterday, trying to get me to come to Denver for the crazy weekend, but my phone ran out of charge before I could answer, and now I can’t find it. It is somewhere in the house, dead.