I honestly thought she’d chicken out, but the human female has actually reported at sparrow-fart for her surgery.
I don’t think she trusts her surgeon.
Sleipnir’s trotters, she has ugly feet!
Well, she’s out of surgery and slurring her words like a drunken sailor. Whatever they gave her knocked her right out. I think I’ll slink around and see if I can snag some more. Not for her comfort or benefit–for mine! It’s to give her when the anesthetic wears off and the inevitable whining starts.
Now we’re at home, and the invalid is reclining on the sofa. The good doctor prescribed an ice pack and stipulated that the foot be kept very dry.
(poke, poke) Yeah, those two edicts are gonna be incompatible.
And here we have: The Boot. Inside resides the poor sore paw.
(Jab, jab, jab) Can you feel that yet? You can? Good! That means all the little irritated nerves are working!
You just sit back and relax. Loki has everything under control.