Once upon a time we had a little grey kitten named Clarabelle. She went the way of the world (rather, the neighborhood) and soon became a Momma Kitty named Clarabelle. In fact, she had two litters of kittens within four months which prompted her nickname of Charlotte the Harlot.
We kept one kitten from the last litter. She is white with brownish/black splotches. My oldest named her Pat.
To avoid any more little Pat the Cats frolicking about, we decided to have Momma Kitty and Pat spayed.
If you’ve never researched hysterectomies for cats, I’ll save you the trauma and tell you now that it is expensive. Many clinics want to conduct a full examination, complete with shots and vaccines, which comes to between $200-500 depending on who you call.
I’m sorry, but I really don’t care if my cat gets leukemia and dies. I’m just trying to prevent more kittens from being born under my bed and behind my couch.
Just take out their equipment and give them a flea treatment, that’s great thanks.
When we learned of a spay and neuter clinic nearby that would cost less than $150 to get both cats fixed, we got them booked.
Now, “nearby” is still a good 40-minute drive away. And it so happened that they needed to be dropped off at 8am. Eight o’clock in the morning minus a 40-minute commute minus three kids to awaken and ready equals a very early morning. It was not a wonderful day to be functioning on four hours of sleep.
We arrived at 8:07 and I discovered that I was not the only one to be scheduled at this indecent time of morning. Apparently everyone checks their poor promiscuous pets in at 8am and then picks them up the next morning. So we circled the parking lot and the surrounding side roads for about 10-15 minutes until there was parking available.
And then we waited in line for everyone to check in Mr. Whiskers, Shadow, Fluffy and all the usual cat names.
As the line dwindled down to the last four of us, the gal at the front passed out. I’ve never witnessed a person faint in real life, but it was very impressive.
We all stared at her awkwardly for a brief moment, processing what had just transpired…and then wondering if perhaps she had expired.
It was a bizarre experience for me though, because I couldn’t just go right to her and help exclusively. The lobby in the clinic was right on the corner of the street and even though my two older kids were playing quietly at the coloring table in the corner, and the baby was in the carseat, I still had to be focused on them and their safety. Another lady immediately went over and held the gal’s hand and called her husband, and that’s what I wanted to do, but that wasn’t my role in that moment.
It’s not that I can never help anyone while I have kids with me, but realizing I have to default to their safety first and letting others be the one to help has still been intriguing me.
This morning we picked up the cats and no one fainted in the lobby, so I was grateful for that.