We are cat people individually, and collectively, we have been a cat family since before we were legally configured as a family.By that I mean I had cats growing up, my hub had cats and dogs growing up, and one of the first things hub and I did when we established ourselves as a household was to get a couple of kittens from the local animal shelter. Fast forward about a decade and our children's first pets that they picked for themselves were two cats from the local shelter.
The kid's cats - Simon and Tigger
Our kids are grown now, their cats Simon and Tigger, having lived long wonderful lives, are both dead now, and each of them (the kids - not the dead cats) have their own cats which they take loving care of. ChefSon has Zoe,
Zoe
and LawStudentDaughter has Sketch.
Sketch
So I flatter myself as somebody who knows a thing or two about cats. I should have known better. There is nothing quite like trying to "take care of" a cat to remind me of precisely how much control I have over life in general and/or this cat in particular.
We decided to call her Bijou because she is indeed a tiny treasure.
As part of the Cat Owners Drill we dutifully took her to the vet to determine that she was indeed a she (yup), to have her checked out for any general health issues (weren't any) and to get her scheduled for spaying so no matter what else happens in her already eventful young life, she will at least not be adding to the world's burden of unwanted kitty babies.
Yesterday was Bijou's Spay Day. I loaded her, unsuspecting, into her kitty carrier and off we went to the Vet.
They have the requisite slightly "eccentric" cat lady who works in the mornings, (the afternoon receptionist is more the puppy lover type) and we talked about how very fine Bijou would be, how missing that morning meal prior to surgery seemed to bother the cats more than anything, etc.
They called me after her procedure to tell me she tolerated it well and had woken up just fine from anesthesia, and I began my clock watching countdown until I could go pick her up in the late afternoon.
I'll be honest and admit it, apparently, in the space of less than a month, I have become totally dependent upon the company of this small animal. I actually actively missed her yesterday and was very much looking forward to having her back home where she now belongs.
At the counter, besides picking up the tab to the tune of what would probably cover health care costs for a family of four for a year in a developing nation (not that I am complaining), I was given The New Drill in terms of aftercare for a post-spayed cat.
A lot has happened in veterinary care since we'd last had cats spayed, so I paid close attention to what revealed itself to be a series of draconian measures surely meant to punish both spayed cat and their hapless owners.
They now send your groggy newly carved up cat home with a torture device attached - called an Elizabethan collar. The E collar is soft, large, fastened fairly securely around the cat's neck, and serves the purpose of keeping them from licking their incision site.
I am guessing the E-collars only come in one size which was a bit too large for Bijou. She kept trying to high step over it, not an easy task as it was attached and went with her everywhere. We were instructed to keep the e-collar on her for 10 days.
Then there was the post-op pain medicine. A synthetic compound somewhat akin to methadone (uh-huh!) that attaches to the "mu" (and I can't make the u right but Google it if you are curious) receptors. Appropriate for a cat. We had a vial of the drug, a syringe with a wicked looking needle to draw it out, past which point the needle comes off and you "simply squirt the medicine into the cat's mouth".
Regular readers may recall we were adopted by a small (totally adorable) cat recently.
WARNING: This post was prepared in a facility that processes gushing cat owner statements.
We decided to call her Bijou because she is indeed a tiny treasure.
As part of the Cat Owners Drill we dutifully took her to the vet to determine that she was indeed a she (yup), to have her checked out for any general health issues (weren't any) and to get her scheduled for spaying so no matter what else happens in her already eventful young life, she will at least not be adding to the world's burden of unwanted kitty babies.Yesterday was Bijou's Spay Day. I loaded her, unsuspecting, into her kitty carrier and off we went to the Vet.
They have the requisite slightly "eccentric" cat lady who works in the mornings, (the afternoon receptionist is more the puppy lover type) and we talked about how very fine Bijou would be, how missing that morning meal prior to surgery seemed to bother the cats more than anything, etc.
They called me after her procedure to tell me she tolerated it well and had woken up just fine from anesthesia, and I began my clock watching countdown until I could go pick her up in the late afternoon.
I'll be honest and admit it, apparently, in the space of less than a month, I have become totally dependent upon the company of this small animal. I actually actively missed her yesterday and was very much looking forward to having her back home where she now belongs.
At the counter, besides picking up the tab to the tune of what would probably cover health care costs for a family of four for a year in a developing nation (not that I am complaining), I was given The New Drill in terms of aftercare for a post-spayed cat.
A lot has happened in veterinary care since we'd last had cats spayed, so I paid close attention to what revealed itself to be a series of draconian measures surely meant to punish both spayed cat and their hapless owners.They now send your groggy newly carved up cat home with a torture device attached - called an Elizabethan collar. The E collar is soft, large, fastened fairly securely around the cat's neck, and serves the purpose of keeping them from licking their incision site.
I am guessing the E-collars only come in one size which was a bit too large for Bijou. She kept trying to high step over it, not an easy task as it was attached and went with her everywhere. We were instructed to keep the e-collar on her for 10 days.Then there was the post-op pain medicine. A synthetic compound somewhat akin to methadone (uh-huh!) that attaches to the "mu" (and I can't make the u right but Google it if you are curious) receptors. Appropriate for a cat. We had a vial of the drug, a syringe with a wicked looking needle to draw it out, past which point the needle comes off and you "simply squirt the medicine into the cat's mouth".
OK. Not that my hands would be at all shaky handling that needle or anything. Or like the cat would at this point be doing anything other than lolling around cooperatively with her mouth wide open to facilitate having something that is doubtlessly delicious squirted on in.
Then came the "exercise restriction" instructions. We were not to let Bijou run, jump, play, go up full flights of stairs, get on or off of furniture or indulge in any high impact activity. For 10 days. Breathing and purring are apparently approved in moderation.
Then came the "exercise restriction" instructions. We were not to let Bijou run, jump, play, go up full flights of stairs, get on or off of furniture or indulge in any high impact activity. For 10 days. Breathing and purring are apparently approved in moderation.
It was suggested we keep her in a "crate or small bathroom/utility room".
Yeah. Nothing says "we love you and hope you recover quickly" more than a crate.
So, how are we doing so far?
Well. Bijou unsuccessfully jumped up to the table top where her food is kept after being home about, oh, 15 minutes. She has continued to hop up and down off the couch, "her" chair, the stairs, and pretty much anything else she saw that she wanted on or off of.
So, how are we doing so far?
Well. Bijou unsuccessfully jumped up to the table top where her food is kept after being home about, oh, 15 minutes. She has continued to hop up and down off the couch, "her" chair, the stairs, and pretty much anything else she saw that she wanted on or off of.
If we say anything or try to intervene she gleefully runs away as if this is the most fun game ever.
She ate her reduced portion dinner last night while giving us looks that made it entirely clear this whole feeding her less routine was not anything she would recommend as an ongoing practice.
After we got one dose of pain medicine into her we placed her, with all necessary accessories, into the small bathroom we have with the fewest "jump up on this" options. She immediately began pawing at the door to be let out. Well this was going swimmingly!
At about 4AM this morning I heard fairly persistent and totally pathetic meowing coming from that bathroom. I got up and discovered that not only had Bijou managed to get her Elizabethan collar off, she had also managed somehow to take a divot out of her forehead. We guess that is from trying to wriggle out underneath the door.
So the cat who managed to survive with nary a scratch after being dumped out to survive on her wits alone out in the boondocks, now, after her supposed "rescue", is sporting both a surgical incision and a nice sized notch out of the scalp on her forehead. Yay team. Go us.
After being fed and watched to interrupt excessive non-e-collar incision licking this morning, Bijou finally took a nap. I tried. As of this writing, she also managed to find the one toy I had not confiscated pre-surgery, and was batting it around the house, chasing it, preCISEly what she was NOT supposed to be doing for the next 10 days.
She ate her reduced portion dinner last night while giving us looks that made it entirely clear this whole feeding her less routine was not anything she would recommend as an ongoing practice.
After we got one dose of pain medicine into her we placed her, with all necessary accessories, into the small bathroom we have with the fewest "jump up on this" options. She immediately began pawing at the door to be let out. Well this was going swimmingly!
At about 4AM this morning I heard fairly persistent and totally pathetic meowing coming from that bathroom. I got up and discovered that not only had Bijou managed to get her Elizabethan collar off, she had also managed somehow to take a divot out of her forehead. We guess that is from trying to wriggle out underneath the door.
So the cat who managed to survive with nary a scratch after being dumped out to survive on her wits alone out in the boondocks, now, after her supposed "rescue", is sporting both a surgical incision and a nice sized notch out of the scalp on her forehead. Yay team. Go us.
After being fed and watched to interrupt excessive non-e-collar incision licking this morning, Bijou finally took a nap. I tried. As of this writing, she also managed to find the one toy I had not confiscated pre-surgery, and was batting it around the house, chasing it, preCISEly what she was NOT supposed to be doing for the next 10 days. I reluctantly intervened. This silly cat obviously does not understand she is not supposed to have fun while recuperating.
What can I say? Bijou is abnormally normal. She will insist upon a return to her usual activities without so much as a passing nod to the surgery she had yesterday. Or the page of instructions from the clinic. Maybe the technician should have read them to her first? She seems to have forgiven us this and all the other indignities.
I am pondering. Who knows better what is appropriate after surgery, the vet, or the cat?
When it comes down to it, who is in control of the activity level of a cat? The cat herself or the silly humans who serve her? You tell me. My money is on the cat.
In closing, I have decided I am not so much anti-vet as I am pro-cat. I will keep a close eye on Bijou and her incision, and I will do what I can to encourage her to take it easy for at least 3-4 days while her interior sutures and skin heal. After that? I stop pretending I have any control and she is back on her own. I imagine we will both be pretty relieved.
What can I say? Bijou is abnormally normal. She will insist upon a return to her usual activities without so much as a passing nod to the surgery she had yesterday. Or the page of instructions from the clinic. Maybe the technician should have read them to her first? She seems to have forgiven us this and all the other indignities.
I am pondering. Who knows better what is appropriate after surgery, the vet, or the cat?
When it comes down to it, who is in control of the activity level of a cat? The cat herself or the silly humans who serve her? You tell me. My money is on the cat.
In closing, I have decided I am not so much anti-vet as I am pro-cat. I will keep a close eye on Bijou and her incision, and I will do what I can to encourage her to take it easy for at least 3-4 days while her interior sutures and skin heal. After that? I stop pretending I have any control and she is back on her own. I imagine we will both be pretty relieved.
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