On career day in seventh grade, I opted for the session with the heart surgeon. He showed us a video of an open-heart surgery. I thought it was fantastic. For the next few years, I decided I would be a heart surgeon.
This morning the vet came to the house to tie our kittens’ tubes. Not in love with the idea of surgery being performed on my writing table, I asked if there was another alternative. The vet said he could take the two kittens away and bring them back when it was all over - i.e. our house or his. J and I discussed it and felt better about one of us being there with the kittens rather than sending them away. So I cleared off my table and held each of the kittens when their turn came to go under the knife.
I’m not sure where the heart surgeon in me has got to, but I couldn’t watch.
As I write this, it’s been a long afternoon. They can’t seem to settle down and sleep. They’ve been wandering back and forth across the apartment on unsteady legs, falling over every few steps and in the process breaking my heart repeatedly. They seem to be looking for something; I suppose they want their brains back working normally. Or their ovaries?
1 comment:
Hi Hannah! First time reader, took me a while to finally start your blog. It's fantastic! Had to write about your kittens... our poor little girl also went through that. She was shaking for days like some junkie going through withdrawel. Did they have to wear one of those mesh sweaters to keep their stitches in place?
Again, loving this! Xhingyu
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