Wrong Cat
Ok, so I took the wrong cat to the vet. I didn’t take the fat old lady cat who’s peeing all over. I took the young cute one who needed shots. But at least I took one of them. I’ll take the other one in a day or two. Around here someone always needs to go to the vet.
Our vet is actually two vets, two married born-again Christian vets. And their office is filled with born-again employees and little born-again signs in Spanish which say things about “being one with him” and “walking in his light”. I won’t say anything.
Regardless of when they were born these vets are very serious about helping the street animals in Cancun. Their policy is that they will neuter any cat we find on the street for free (or for a tip). We’ve brought them a lot of street cats so far, including one which we later learned wasn’t a street cat (oops). But there are always more cats around ready to make more unwanted kittens, so it will never end.
The cat I took today is one we found with a broken leg. She was about 4 months old when we found her and her femur had been snapped right in half. The poor thing ended up with a pin in her hip for a month. And as soon as she recovered from that ordeal (and she has recovered very well) she went into heat, so we had to do an emergency spay on her just to get her to quit all that horny yowling!
Today I took her to the vet because she had a string from one of her internal stitches sticking out through the spay incision scar. It was very weird. We noticed yesterday that the string was sticking out so today we decided to ask the vet to deal with it, which she did by just cutting it off (well now I coulda done that, I think). But while I had the vet’s attention I got her to give this kitty her vaccinations. So now that kitty is all set, finally, maybe, until something else goes wrong.
Meanwhile my husband has piled a whole bunch of stuff on our bed to make it an unpleasant place for the fat old lady cat with the leaky bladder to hang out. He’s got the lid from a plastic bin on there and a bunch of towels and some screwdrivers and junk like that; and he’s got it all cockamaymeed so there’s nowhere comfortable to lie down and lose control of your bladder.
But now I want to take a nap and my bed is a big complex lumpy mess. Looks like I took the wrong cat to the vet.
