Ollie lost his balls today.
He came home from the vets with an insanely long wound travelling the length of his stomach, no balls and a cone around his neck. Normally a castration operation for your average tomcat is straightforward and leaves only a slight wound at the testicular area. But Ollie only had one ball, because the other was yet to drop (there was a brief period of time where I believed he had two balls; one covered in white fur, the other in black, which I thought kind of cool, but it turned out that he just had one super big testicle) and so the surgeon had to go searching in several places for the other. Luckily, after a good long search in his abdomen, then under some skin and then some other place, they found it and all was well.
But it's so sad to see him walk around the house, bumping into walls and table legs and not being able to get into small spaces. I had to take the lid and door off of his kitty litter tray because when he tried to get through the door flap the cone around his neck stopped him short. I felt so bad exposing his private toilet. He doesn't like to pee in front of people! He's a private pee-er! It's such a loss of dignity.
When he came home he wouldn't eat or drink and I eventually realised it was because he couldn't eat or drink! The cone got in the way. I had to feed him from my hand.
And maybe the saddest part was when I went to pick him up at the vet's my poor wee guy had peed himself out of fear. His little back legs were soaking wet.
And! And they shaved his tummy furrrrrrr. Oh the tummy fur that I love so much is gone! Gone! Gone...
When you buy a pet, you don't really think about the heartache it will bring. You forget that you will be paying for operations to cut off his gonads, that you will be the one holding him still while the vet sticks a big ass needle in the scruff of his neck. You forget that he will look at you with his big, innocent eyes while the rabies shot seeps into his veins, him silently pleading with you to make the pain go away. Deep down I know it's all for his own good - after all, if they hadn't found that lost ball he'd likely get cancer - but it's difficult to see him walking into things and trying to lick his paws but licking the cone instead. It's just wrong.
There isn't a punchline to this post at all I'm afraid.
That is all.
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
Tags; Crazy Cat Lady