The water fountain is an endless source of amazement. They’ve all gone swimming in it (accidentally) at one point or another.
I weighed them yesterday. Corbett (above) is the runt, at 1 1/2 pounds. The other three all weigh 1 pound 12 ounces!
Bellied up to the water bowls.
Bolitar, lookin’ for a snuggle.
Hey!
Remember yesterday when I was all GET A LOAD OF THAT BELLEH:
And y’all were all HOLY COW WHEN’S SHE GONNA DROP THOSE BABIES?!
And I was all DO YOU SEE THIS THING?! (Or at least I meant to – I forgot to post the picture, actually.)
And y’all were all HOLY MOLY YOU WEREN’T KIDDING, THAT IS ONE PREGNANT CAT! (Or you would have been had I posted it.)
Well, yesterday morning I decided that the fact that Maura had had herself a dirty behind for the last few days, and acted as though it hurt when I cleaned her off, might mean that she could have impacted anal glands. So I called the vet’s office and made an appointment and I loaded her up into the carrier, and headed for the vet.
She was completely silent all the way to the vet’s office (I am serious when I tell you that this is one laid-back cat), except for a few times when she turned around in circles trying to get comfortable, and I thought WOULDN’T IT BE FUNNY IF SHE WENT INTO LABOR RIGHT NOW, OH THAT WOULD BE HIGH-LARIOUS!
We got to the vet’s office, and I turned her over and sat down in the waiting room. The shelter manager came in while I was sitting there, and she went back to see what was going on. She asked a few questions, and then suggested I just come back so I could answer any questions the vet had. I went back, and as I walked back, the vet was feeling Maura’s abdomen.
The vet couldn’t feel any kittens. And as far along as Maura was supposed to be, she should have been able to feel kittens. She was pretty concerned that Maura might have developed Pyometra (basically, when the uterus fills up with pus), and suggested that she go ahead and spay Maura.
I agreed, and left Maura there.
All day long, I worried about Maura, of course, because I am nothing if not a worrywart. Also, I was a little sad that there would be no wee baby kittens. When the vet’s office was about to close, I picked up the phone and called to see how she was doing.
“Oh, Doc was about to call the shelter,” said Belinda, who’d answered the phone.
I steeled myself for bad news.
Turns out that our Maura, big ol’ pregnant Maura? Huge, ready to pop Maura? Maura with the great big pregnant momma cat appetite?
FAKING IT THE ENTIRE TIME.
NOT pregnant. NOT FOR ONE MOMENT PREGNANT.
NOT suffering from Pyometra. PERFECTLY FINE.
She TOTALLY played us.
She’s not pregnant. She’s just big-boned.
“Look. I never SAID I was pregnant. You just assumed. I went along with it for your sake, because I am sweet and kind and didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
I’m going to go pick her up from the vet’s office in a bit. Then I’m going to bring her home and girlfriend, who’s been living the life of Riley with the eating of the kitten food and the two snacks a day of canned food, is going on a DIET.
In a few weeks, after she’s healed from her spaying and up to date on her vaccinations, she’ll be headed off to the adoption center.
The party is over, sweet girl!
“I don’t believe I care for the sound of THAT.”
“I told you she was fakin’ it. When you gonna trust the Sheriff Mama to know what she’s talking about?”
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Previously
2009: No entry.
2008: No entry.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.