sean’s place

Cats Home

I got a nice call this morning from the vet asking how my kittens were doing. The answer: they are doing fine.

I brought the little ones home from surgery last night at about 16:30 and reintroduced them to their room and my closet. I put a little food in their bowls and put a few ice cubes into the water fountain. They nibbled a bit and started batting around a few toys on the floor. They looked pretty dazed from the anesthesia and healing. I ultimately let them out into the main part of my bedroom where they promptly found my bed and started shuffling around. I got in with them a little later (after I had some dinner) and soon found two kittens cuddled up against me. I quickly dozed off myself…

We all woke up again shortly when my phone rang. This gave me some ample opportunity to brush my teeth, check my email, and give the kittens their pain medication.

As I write this, Max came up and plopped herself in my lap and went to sleep.

I wonder why getting a cat spayed is often referred to as “getting fixed.” To me, to ‘fix’ something, you are repairing it - returning it to its normal state of operation. In the strictest sense, the surgeon removed components from these little ones such that their normal reproductive behavior is forever removed. They essentially ‘broke’ the reproductive capability of my little one. Oh well, English is a weird language. I think the more appropriate term is “altered” such that it means “surgically sterilized.” Makes more sense to me.

This message is for Myles: By this point, you have inevitably looked up the word ‘fixed’ on dictionary.com and are fully prepared to write a smartass comment about it. I thus pre-emptively state that I have already done this, and am aware of definition #9. It’s stupid and belies the spirit of the word.

At this point, Alex has just joined Max in my lap. She is somewhat precariously positioned and might fall off if I move the mouse.