The Deej went under the knife last Tuesday.
He and his brother Edgar both went in for their obligatory neutering and vaccinations. They’ve since been doing some recuperating, which explains DG’s post the other day. His web-surfing logically increased while he was laid up and he eventually figured out how to use VOX. He's a very clever kitteh.
Anyway, Tuesday was not a fun day for any of us. DG and Edgar where to be at the vet’s by 7:20am and the single requirement had been that they have no food for 24 hours prior to their appointment. This meant the other cats would have to fast as well, since the only room in the house where DG and Edgar could be quarantined already has a permanent resident and she really doesn’t like to share.
And so all food dishes were all put in the pantry Monday evening and the Cursed Sunset of the Insanely Moody Felines began. Minor altercations were had. Surfaces were pissed upon. Items were knocked to the floor. I went to bed early.
The veterinarian’s office is only about fifteen minutes away, so I had Zachary put the hungry and unsuspecting kittens in their carriers around ten to seven. Zach was an invaluable aid to me because I was determined not to be associated with this venture in any way in DG’s mind. There is a cat in our house, Stripe, whom I think has never forgiven me for taking him to be neutered. I’m lucky to even get near him most of the time; it’s that bad. It would absolutely kill me if DG were to shun me like that. So I had Zach do the dirty work and I hardly spoke a word the entire time.
When we arrived at the vet’s, I went in to take care of the paperwork before having Zach bring the carriers in so that I could talk freely without DG hearing me. Once everything was set to go, Zach brought the kittens in and we sat waiting for an intern to come out and take them. The time was precisely 7:16am. DG and Edgar would not be taken from us until 7:30. It would prove to be the longest fourteen minutes in my recent memory.
I described in Chapter 3 the effect DG’s little meow has on one’s bloodpump. Well, he wailed during the entire drive out and most of the time we waited in the vet’s office. Only there was this added note of absolute fear that utterly soured the otherwise beautiful mewling of my Li’l Deej.
Edgar, as always, remained stoic and silent.
The waiting was made more trying by a couple barking dogs and the old woman sitting next to me with a lapful of hyperactive Pomeranians and a withered torso slathered in some orthopedic salve, the scent of which was having a familiar effect on my asthma.
Through the tiny holes in the carrier resting in my lap, I could see DG shuffling around, burying himself under the blanket. I wanted so badly to take him out and comfort him, but I couldn’t risk being associated in his mind with such a terrifying experience. All I wanted was for the intern to come out and take him from me and yet when she finally did, all I wanted to do was take him home. It sucked.
I took Zachary back to the house and went to work. They had said to call around noon to find out when DG and Edgar could be picked up. I called at 12:03 so as not to seem too anxious. They told me both kittens had come out of anesthesia just fine and were now relaxing under the effect of a morphine shot (an extra $18 each, but money well-spent). I could pick them up at two o’clock.
Dad, You’re Really Harshin’ My Buzz!
Anyone who has ever spent time in a hospital and been administered powerful narcotics like morphine knows that there is a coming-down phase that is not a particularly enjoyable experience. It beats the alternative of writhing in agony for hours with no analgesics at all, but it bites ass nevertheless. Sadly, I neglected to consider this side effect and attempted, way too soon, to nuzzle The Deej. He cut me in multiple places as he launched himself from my arms. Completely freaked out, he ran downstairs and hid himself behind the toilet in the laundry room.
Edgar, as always, remained stoic and silent.
By evening, both kittens were returning to normal with the obvious exception that they were not as inclined to tear it up all over the house as they had been in previous days. The morphine had gone. They were groggy and sore. And tired.
I cradled DG near my face and kissed him on the chest for a long time, listening to him purr. He was soft and warm and happy. He did not blame me for leaving him in a strange place to be castrated. He wasn’t afraid of me or angry with me. He was asleep in daddy’s hands with his little kitty smile on his face.
Oh thank God. He was still my Li’l Deej.