Sometimes Mom thinks she spends half her life on cat care tasks. In addition to the twice-daily routine of feeding, cleaning the numerous litter boxes, and providing fresh water, she makes frequent trips with one or another of us to the dreaded veterinarian. The most recent victims of her cat care are Pearl Grey and Cara Mia.

Pearl Grey

I finally reached the “age of accountability”: time to get spayed. Mom took me out in the carrier on the evening of October 23 and dumped me at Gasow Veterinary Hospital. Little did I know the joy that awaited me! After midnight, no one would give me any food. Several people passed by my cage, but no one would throw me a crumb. Then I was removed from the cage. A weird contraption was put on my face, and I fell asleep. When I awakened, I was really groggy at first. Then I noticed that fur had been shaved off my belly, and there were several stitches. Fortunately, they gave me medicine that helped me not feel so bad.

I did wonder where Mom was. At last she came to get me on Wednesday evening. My godmother Mary Jane was with her. I was placed into a carrier, and they took me home. My troubles were not over, however. As soon as I got out of the carrier, they put a weird plastic contraption around my neck. Mom started calling me “Conehead.” I found that I had a hard time navigating with that E-collar. What is worse, it was difficult to eat and drink. To her credit, Mom did try different bowls and dishes to help me. Nevertheless, I was NOT happy that I had to wear that thing for ten whole days.

I had to endure another ride in the carrier, but at least when I got to the hospital someone removed my stitches, and I did not get left there all by myself. Best of all, I am a conehead no longer!

Cara Mia

For over a year now Mom has hauled me out to a place called Oakland Veterinary Referral Services from time to time. My own vet, Dr. T., had recommended that Mom take me there after Mom found a lump or two on my belly. On my first visit there, I was poked, prodded, and photographed. After that I went there about once a month for a long time. Mom started giving me this weird liquid once, twice, and now three times a day as a part of an “experimental study.” I am not supposed to eat at least an hour before or after my dose. Boo hiss hiss!

Eventually the time between trips to the oncologist lengthened to two and then three months. I still had to take the medicine three times a day. The doctor was pleased with my progress. One of my lumps started to give me problems, however. Dr. B. suggested that Mom could arrange to have it removed. She said that surgery would not cause problems because I was “stable.” After a couple of emergency trips to OVRS because of my bleeding, Mom scheduled my pre-surgical testing and my surgery.

I had my surgery on September 14. Like Pearl Grey, I got some pain medication for a few days and had to wear the “cone of shame.” Mom stuck me by myself in the bathroom so I would take it easy. I had to wear that stupid cone and be locked up in the bathroom until September 26, when my stitches were removed. Then I got to return to Mom’s bedroom with some of my feline friends.

I got even with Mom, though. From the moment I came home after surgery until just recently, I decided to protest getting my experimental medicine by drooling profusely after each and every dose. Sometimes the best revenge is just grossing out your abuser! Finally, I decided to take the “high road,” and most times I don’t drool anymore.

Mom took me to see Dr. B. just yesterday. Dr. B. says I am doing great! She told Mom that I am mentioned by name when the study findings (to date) are presented. In fact, Dr. B took my picture so it can be used in the presentations. I am going to be famous. Mom cares less about that than she does about me doing so well. I am quite happy about that, too!