While Sara and the kids are away this week, I took Mickey and Percy to the vet (with Sara's permission) to have them spayed and neutered. It's our way of being responsible pet owners and is for the best for all concerned. If left to their own devices the house would be overrun with cute little kittens which the kids would want to keep forever.
So today I took them to their early morning appointments. They were not happy about being put in their pet carriers and even less happy, I suspect, at what happened to them there. I feel so guilty, and I know they'll never trust me again.
Percy fared the best - doesn't even have any stitches - although he's walking like a drunk sailor until the numbness goes out of his hind end. He usually purrs non-stop, hence his name, but I haven't heard a hint of a purr out of him since I brought him home.
Mickey, on the other hand, is not a happy camper. She keeps trying to lick her shaved, incised, stitched belly but all her toung comes in contact with is the transparent plastic cone the vet says she needs to wear for two weeks. Ha! We'll be lucky if she lasts two days. She's been walking backwards dragging it on the floor trying to get it off. She's going to be a hard one to care for - she's very active and independent but she's not supposed to go up and down stairs, or climb and jump for two weeks (what's so magic about 14 days anyway?). I'll do my best to keep her calm and relaxed. I'll only have the cats for a week more, then they'll be back home with Sara, Quincey and the kids. Hopefully they'll be feeling much better by then.