Well, "the deed is done!"

For almost eight months now, Gizzi has evaded and defied our every attempt to get him to TED (The Evil Doctor = Vet) for his "little operation." He has melted through our fingers, escaped over and under furniture, and dissolved through walls when we attempted to confine him.

You would think that three grown women (even though one is in a wheelchair!) could catch and control one 10-lb cat, wouldn't you? Oh so very wrong! He has brought us all to our knees and made strong words and tears flow evenly!

He has recently spent a lot of night-time energy baying at the moon (or whatever love-god he serves!), and demanding to be let OUT! He has also started to spray. His intentions were clear, but so were mine!

I love him with passion, and I wouldn't hurt him for the world, but this time we had to do it. I talked to him and explained what had to be done, and Gizzi replied, "Uhn un, no way, NOT going to happen!"

Suzy was thus prepared on Thursday to do whatever battle was necessary. She brought a lovely cage into the living room and opened the door. Each cat came to inspect it, as Suzy talked quietly to them. Gizzi sniffed at it and even sat on it, but got nowhere near the front door!

Finally a small handful of Feline CD placed in the carrier accomplished what determined, mindful, thundering women could not. Gizzi walked in and Suzy closed the door.

He had a lot to say when he realized that he couldn't get out, but Suzy took him out the front door and I settled down to a 24-hour cry!

The house was so quiet! I called before the office closed to see how he was doing. Anita, his nurse, checked on him, then came back and said, "Ahhh -- you do realize that his operation isn't until tomorrow morning, don't you?" I said I knew that, but I wanted to come sleep on the floor in front of his cage. She said I couldn't do that, but I could Rent-A-Cat if I wanted to!

Contrary to my expectations, I did sleep Thursday night. However, I missed waking up to find his sweet weight across my chest. It was a long morning, but at noon I called.

"He's cross and cranky," Anita said. "Come get him!"

So he is home, minus some useless equipment. The nice thing is that he seems to blame everyone but me for what happened to him. And you know what?

I like it that way!!

Copyright © Renee Darvin
July 28, 2001