Instead of a bulky "Elizabethan" collar, we outfitted Pixie with a onesie that belonged to my wife's granddaughter. It worked quite well, keeping her from worrying her incision, making her feel she was being constantly snuggled, and weirding out the other animals so they wouldn't bother her.
She spent the first full day after surgery lying around, whimpering, and looking pitiful. We were a bit concerned. Then Pumpkin the cat, upset because there was no more gravy in her can of cat food, pushed it off the counter where she eats.
As soon as it hit the floor with a resounding splat, Pixie shot out of her bed and into the kitchen, in order to beat the Shelties to the tasty remnants of the cat's meal.
We're much relieved. Pixie is doing fine.