So, on Tuesday I called and made an appointment to take Lafayette, Sam, Hoyt, and Bill to the vet so that she could look at their eyes and determine whether they’re ready to go to Petsmart for adoption. I waited until about three minutes before I needed to be on the road, then snatched them up (they were all snoozing on my desk) and put them in the carrier.
(I really should have put them in two carriers, but I was also taking Sugarbutt with me, because the rodent ulcer on his upper lip was acting up again, requiring a shot of steroids. Two carriers, I could just about handle. Three? Not so much.)
We were within sight of the vet clinic, which is a 25 minute drive from here, when either Sam or Hoyt pulled a pungent maneuver known as “Had I known you were going to snatch me up and keep me confined for a long road trip, dear lady, I would have used the litterbox before we left.”
Good LORD, the smell.
But by happenstance, I had actually stopped for one moment and thought before I left the house. The last time I had the kittens in carriers, when I took them to the shelter for their vaccinations, Sam vomited on Hoyt. So just in case, I grabbed a handful of cleaning rags to take with me.
I pulled into the clinic parking lot, and went to the back seat to see just how bad the damage was.
Whoever’d pooped in the carrier had been kind enough to do it at the end where the door was, and he’d done it so neatly that the bed in the carrier was untouched.
(But good god, the STENCH.)
I used the cleaning rags to clean up the poop, and then I dug through my purse for a wet wipe, and cleaned it up some more.
Then I took all the dirty rags and shoved them into a plastic shopping bag and left it in the car.
(As you can imagine, when I came out and got into the car, I was very much wishing I’d thought of a better place to put the poopy rags. I immediately drove to McDonald’s and deposited the bag in one of their trash cans.)
The vet looked at the kittens first, picking up each of them and looking them over carefully. She said that she wished Bill and Lafayette’s grafts had taken a bit more before peeling off, but they all look really good. The goal of the surgery was not to make their eyes look perfect, but to make them more comfortable. If Bill’s anything to go by, they are definitely far more comfortable than they were before.
She said that, in her opinion, they’re ready to go. They should still have ointment in their eyes once or twice a day, and it wouldn’t hurt to send a tube of it home with whoever adopts each cat, to use as needed. The ones with the worse eyes – Bill and Lafayette – might need ointment on and off through their lives, it’s kind of a wait-and-see thing.
When I got home, I emailed the shelter manager and told her what the vet had said, but made sure to let her know that there is NO hurry as far as I’m concerned.
So that’s where we stand right now – when room comes available at Petsmart, the first four will be going.
(HOW HOW HOW am I going to give up my sweet Bill, who has quietly wormed his way into my heart?? AGH.)
I bought this SnooZzy Cat Cave because I’m a terrible impulse shopper, even when I’m shopping online. When it arrived, I took it out of the box and put it on the floor. Terry came over and flopped down on top of it, so I put him inside it. He loved it and stayed in it for a couple of hours. Since then, I can’t convince a single cat to stay inside. They all prefer to sleep on top of it.
The kittens check my groceries to see if there’s anything in there for them, while Hoyt supervises.
Hoyt’s complaint of the day: “I WAS LAYING HERE SOUND ASLEEP AND ALL OF A SUDDEN EVERYONE ELSE CLIMBED ON THIS BED WITH ME AND THEY’RE SQUISHING ME AND PINCHING MY TAIL AND I WANT THEM TO STOP!”
::thlurp::
The Wonkas are doing well. Veruca had us worried earlier this week, because she wasn’t eating much at feeding time, and she’d actually lost the ounce and a half she’d gained since we got her. She seemed to spend most of her time in the meatloaf position, watching her brothers and sister play, and she just didn’t look right to us. Fred stopped and picked up some canned high-fat cat food on Wednesday, and when he got home we mixed it with formula. He fed it to her with a needleless syringe, and she seemed to like it quite a lot. She ate a bunch more on Thursday morning, and then when I went in later to hang out with them, I took a plate with the food (mixed with formula) on it, and she said “GET OUT OF MY WAY!”, and just about dove face-first into the plate, and ate every bit of that food.
She’s perkier, she’s running around and playing, she’s using the litter box like a champ (they all are!), she’s doing just fine. The only danger is that I might squeeze her to death because she is SO CUTE.
Veruca kills me with how CONCERNED she always looks.
Veruca demands to know just what the heck is going ON here.
“NO, this are MY belly rubbin’ time, you go away and wait your turn!”
I call Jake my little lunatic, because he’s always got this loony grin on his goofy little face.
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Previously
2008: No entry.
2007: Crazy Eyes say, “I am a fearsome creature.
2006: The black Momma cat we first saw about a month ago was back Friday night. (NOTE: This is Maxi!)
2005: No entry.