Scooter gets Neutered

There's nothing quite so annoying as having to keep an outdoor-loving cat inside and foodless from 8:00 p.m. onward until the next morning. Wait, there is. It's having to keep the other cat, Samson, in at the same time. They meowed, scratched at the door, picked at the rug, made total pains out of themselves all evening. They both got put out in the mudroom last night so we wouldn't have to hear them. All food has been taken away. This morning when I let them out of the mudroom into the rest of the house, I put Samson in the living room and shut the door, giving him a chance to eat something.

Samson is going in for his round of shots today, so he can eat all he wants. Scooter, on the other hand, has to have an empty stomach in preparation for his surgery. I will be taking both cats (in separate cages!) to the vet's this morning by 8:15. Then I go to work, as usual. Right after work, I go back to the vet and pay about a million dollars for all the procedures and take both cats home. Scooter will no doubt look a little odd with some of his tremendously fluffy hair shaved off and a little less spring in his step.

Why put myself through this feline torture, having everything done at once? My vet, my fabulous, convenient vet, is going out of the small animal business. Just big animals now, as of tomorrow. I am so sad. It was so great having the vet 10 minutes away. Now we will have to find a new vet. We loved this one. They didn't press for extra procedures. They didn't say, "We will keep him in for observations." The didn't say, "We think she needs dental work." My sister's city vet gouges her for every possible thing they can think of. She has a "designer" cat. It sometimes incurs designer costs. It is a loveable, but weird munchkin Scottish fold. Seriously.

Anyway, just so you know, as I am typing the cats are having a tag team meow fest right behind me at the door. They think I am stupid, that I don't know how much they want to go outside. They are jumping up on every windowsill they can get to. They also think that if they meow louder and more insistently that I will finally come to my senses and let them out. I cannot tell you how much I wish it was 8:15.