April 20, 2014

KNISELY: Adventures in cat spaying


---- — If you’re a regular reader of this column, you know I have a cat. I got the cat to deal with the mice. Even if you only pop in on this column from time to time, you still likely know I have mice and that I hate them. I complain about it quite regularly, I’m afraid.

Living next door to a grain elevator, there’s little hope the mice will go away. And if you know me, there’s zero hope that the complaining will stop.

But after having gotten my cat, Susan, I’ve noticed I now have another nuisance. They aren’t as annoying as the mice, but they’re pretty darn close.

With the arrival of warmer temperatures came the neighborhood tomcats. I did not know there were so many stray cats running around my neighbor until Susan became, umm, er, desirable. Yeah, we’ll go with that.

She’s been staying in the garage until I could get her fixed, but I let her out late last week to enjoy some rare sunshine. I ran in the house for literally 4 minutes and came out to find her with one of the tomcats that’s been hanging around lately. They were, umm, doing yoga. Yeah, we’ll go with that.

I shooed him away and ordered her back into the garage to think about what she had done. I then went to work to find a place to have Susan un-sissified. That’s medical terminology for spayed. A quick Google search later and Susan had an appointment with the Neuter Scooter.

The morning of her appointment came and it was time to wrangle her into a pet carrier. I distracted her by petting her in her favorite spot, the dip just above her nose right between her eyes. As soon as she closed her eyes and leaned into my hand, I swooped her up and pushed her into the carrier.

Her eyes were now open and not happy. Then I put the carrier on the front passenger seat of my car and climbed into the driver side. As we pulled out of the garage, she must have decided the angry eyes weren’t working because she switched over to her sad eyes. Those worked better and afforded her some petting through the carrier door.

I dropped her off and didn’t see her again until it was over. When I got her back, she was zonked. We’re talking eyes open, tongue out, passed out cold. It took a few hours but she started moving around. Sitting in her new home for the next 48 hours — my laundry room — the carrier door was open but she stood inside for a moment to think about her exit.

She finally got the gumption to head out. I could tell she was aiming to walk to the right but her butt was pulling her to the left. She toppled over.

I’m not going to lie; I laughed at her. I felt a tinge of guilt, but I laughed nonetheless.

She eventually got control of herself and by the next evening the Susan I know and love was back. The only problem was, during her recovery time in the laundry room, she’d become quite accustomed to living the good life indoors and didn’t want to go back outside.

This time, as I was shooing her out the back door, she tried the sad eyes first. And then when those didn’t work, she went to the angry eyes.

Reach Misty Knisely at or 574-732-5155