Feline Fear
My vacation ended with a trip to Camden Town, a visit to the British Museum and a delightful dinner with S.P. The flight home was survivable, despite the crying baby. So, who puts babies on nine hour flights ? I spent the night in Atlanta and began my trip to Thomaston at an early hour the next day. I caught myself driving fast in an effort to see my kitten as soon as possible.
When I arrived home, I embraced my mom but my kitten ran from me ! What a dissappointment ! I expected her to jump up into my arms and go ” meow, meow, Mr. Cowboy I missed you so much, meow, meow!” Not so. I started tossing her jingle ball down the hallway and she ran to catch it, but would not let me touch her, much less pick her up and hug her. This hurt my feelings. Later, when I was sitting in the den, she walked in and then backed away from me. At the sight of this I was feeling some serious emotional pain. I grabbed her toy doggie and enticed her to grab and bite it. After a couple of minutes of this, Suvy had a confused expression on her face as if she were having a deja vu experience. By the end of the day she consented to sit on the couch with me. Her lack of recognition really surprised me since I had only been gone nine days; this after giving her tender loving care for a month. I really don’t get it at all…
Yesterday was her appointment to have a hysterectomy. We delivered her to the vet at 9 am. I explained to Suvy that she was going to spend the night there and that the people who worked there were going to take care of her. At 3:30 pm we were allowed to visit her in her cage, after the surgery. As we walked in, another pet owner asked to see the doctor who owns this clinic. The assistant said, ” he’s in surgery now but you can come on back.” A couple of minutes later, the assistant told us that we could come to the back of the facility and see Suvy. Believe it or not we walked through the operating room in order to get to Suvy’s cage. The operating room was not the tile lined operating room that you might see in a hospital. This room was a back room in this facility with a wooden table about four feet tall. An unconscious cat was lying on its back on the table with the hair shaved off of its abdomen and with a iodine-like solution spread over its bare skin. I quickly walked past this scene out of respect for the cats privacy. As I rounded the corner to Suvy’s cage, another cat in the building let out a painful scream that sounded like a wildcat might sound out in the woods. This was not exactly the recuperative atmosphere that I would have wanted Suvy to be in.
Suvy was located in a cage at a height of about chest level. She was high as a kite; sitting on her haunches; staring straight ahead. I told her who I was and she turned her head a little bit in vague recognition. I asked my mom to step a little closer to the cage. When Suvy saw my mom, she slowly took a couple of steps in her direction and then backed up to the back of the cage. I told Suvy that she was in the animal hospital and that we would pick her up tomorrow. I told her that we loved her and that she would be staying with the other cats tonight. We then left, passing an unconscious dog in a cage in the next room.
Don’t get me wrong. I feel fortunate that there are veteranarians in this world to help the animals in this world. I was just expecting accomodations of a more luxurious manner than this. This diary entry is an example of just how painful the repercussions of expectation can be.
We picked up Suvy today and she is recuperating on a big blue cushy easy chair.
With astonishment,
I.C.