We had a big week in our house… well our wee pussy cats did. Luther and Riddick were both neutered. Poor little poppets, although 24 hours after the operation they were slipping and sliding around the apartment as always.
|Luther's furry feet!|
But I digress. We were never torn about the need to de-sex the cats - it was the right thing to do, for them and us - however if it turned out Riddick was already pregnant, then we were really torn. Steve kept asking me what should we do and I kept saying: “I can’t say yes let’s terminate them.” So we agreed, if she was pregnant, we would keep them and find good homes for them, probably having to keep one. The boys would have LOVED that and I would’ve liked giving them that experience.
Fortunately (or unfortunately) she wasn’t pregnant, so it was full steam ahead on the operation, but before that, Steve drove me to work with Lex and the cats. The plan was to drop me and then go to the vet. As we were getting closer to the office, I decided to tell Lex what was going to happen. I always tell the boys the truth - in a way that makes sense to them - because I think it’s important. It’s not always easy, because the truth can be more upsetting than a kiddie lie, but they deserve to know. So I said:
“Mate, the cats are going to have an operation today with the animal doctor, so when they come home, we have to take special care of them because they’ll have big ouchies. Riddick will have a big cut in her tummy and Luther will have his seeds removed.”
As background, for some reason, the boys call testicles seeds. I’m not sure where it comes from, but it’s better than nuts I suppose.
Anyhoo, Lex had tears streaming down his face and said:
“No Mummy we can’t take Luther’s seeds. How will he do a wee?”
“We’re not cutting his doodle off love, just his seeds, and this will mean he can’t make any baby pussycats with Riddick.”
Again for background info, penis in our house goes by the name of “doodle” for those not in the know.
|Riddick in post-op slumber|
Steve and I turned up at the vets to collect the cats later that evening, both soppy as hell that our little loves were hurting. I’m not sure what the vet said because my heart was aching too much to pay attention.
Thankfully the cats are back to their rambunctious selves and the boys are back to their rambunctious treatment of the cats. It took a bit of time to re-bond though - the boys were horrified by the cats’ wounds and kept well away from them for a couple of days. That was an awesome outcome in the recovery process.
They’re still not quite getting the fact that kittens are no longer possible. We’ll keep talking to them, trying to explain that it can’t happen anymore, and they’ll keep nagging us for more cats, dogs, bunny rabbits, hamsters, fish… and the list goes on.
At least we’re not going to have a male cat spraying in the apartment. That is a smell I could not cope with!
Yours, without the bollocks