He’s fine, just as the vet said he would be. Snookums took him into the house while I was parking the car, and he said that he seemed really excited to be back at home. We weren’t supposed to give him any food for a while, but he didn’t seem in the mood for eating anyway. He hid under the futon for a few hours to recuperate. Then about 8:30 he emerged, gave a stretch, and was back to his old self. I might be imagining it, but he seems more affectionate now too. He cuddled with us for a while when we went to bed, and he sat on my lap for a while this morning at breakfast. Dr. Amy, of course, was rather put out to discover that the interloper had returned. So we had to give her some extra cuddles too…

Petey Update: Today’s the day our little kitten gets neutered. I know we have to do it; it’s what responsible pet owners do. But I was still dreading taking him in. We had to take away the cat food at 9pm last night, which meant that by morning he was a very pissed-off little fellow. We managed to shut him up in the laundry so Amy could have her breakfast. Then we had to get him to the carrier and over to the vet. They keep him all day and we pick him up after work. Apparently the procedure for boy cats is pretty simple, and he should be back to normal within a day or two. I just feel guilty over causing pain to a little creature when I can’t explain that it’s for his own good. (This is another reason I don’t have kids.)

Update: Just spoke to the vet. He’s doing fine! We’ll pick him up in a couple hours.

He’s doing good, our little kitten. He and Amy still aren’t good friends yet, more like co-workers who get along. The friendliest they get is when they wake up every morning at 5:30 and chase each other up and down the length of the house. Last night I startled Petey in the kitchen and he spilled his dish of kibble everywhere, and I swear Amy looked at me and actually rolled her eyes. He was a little weird on the weekend, hiding under the bed most of the day on Sunday. We think it was because we had people over Saturday night and that freaked him out a little bit. We had a hell of a time catching him to take him to the vet on Monday. (Picture two grown humans barricaded in a bedroom both crawling around under a bed trying to drag out a pissed-off cat.) We eventually got him there, and he got checked out and had his second kitten shot. The vet also turned him over and had a look at the family jewels. “My, he’s got big testicles for his age!” she said. “That’s probably why he’s so mischievous.” Uh-huh. He won’t have ’em much longer! Anyway, I was prepared for him to have a bad reaction to the shot (as Fiona reported that his brothers did), but he was fine. He’s adjusted to indoor life pretty well, and he hasn’t tried to escape at all. And look! I put his favorite towel on the new IKEA cat bed and he actually feel asleep on it!

Unwanted Kittens. Apparently the NSW RSPCA are putting down 10 unwanted kittens a day this Christmas season. I’m glad that we (and Fiona and the S.V.) were able to save Petey and his brothers from meeting a similar fate, but I’m also pissed that his mother was obviously not desexed by her irresponsible IDIOT owner.

Petey Update: Isn’t he a gorgeous boy?

This week Petey saw the vet and got his microchip inserted, which means he’s officially OURS. (Snookums insisted I register his name as “Professor Death,” which was slightly embarrassing.) He’s already much healthier than he was three weeks ago! His coat is getting shiny, and he looks a lot less starved. The huge improvement has been in his sociability. He’s gone from being very nervous and skittish to being incredibly affectionate and sweet. He loves to be petted and scratched. He’s even letting us hold him and pick him up!

We kept him sequestered in the laundry room for the first few days, but we soon gave in and let him have the run of the house. It’s been hilarious watching his interactions with Amy. Since he’s too small to be a threat, her main reaction seems to be one of SUPREME EFFING ANNOYANCE. He keeps trying to make friends, and she mostly rebuffs him and stomps away. I nearly made her head explode last night when I put down a big bowl of kitten milk, and she was torn between the urge to flee and the greedy desire to slurp it up beside him like the little piggy that she is. (Her pride won out. She gave me a dirty look and slunk away like a sullen teenager.) Progress is happening though. I’ve seen them touch noses once or twice, and the past two mornings we’ve woken to the sounds of cats chasing each other up and down the house. (Which is awesome, considering that one of the main reasons we wanted another cat was to give her exercise.) He’s just this stubborn little brother, wearing down her resistance. Yesterday morning she was lying on the floor in my office when he crept in and stretched out beside her. I immediately snapped a photo before she remembered that she hates him. Score one for Petey!

I made another YouTube video of Petey, this time him playing with a toy bird on a string. Terrifically boring to most of you, I’ll admit, but it’s fun having a little one around again. (And NO, this is not a sublimated baby wish. I commented to the Snook this morning that while Petey is fun, entertaining him is also a lot of WORK and I’m grateful that we can lock him in the laundry at night and get some sleep.)

Yay! Miss Fee and the Sock Victim found three little kittens in their yard yesterday. They’re thinking of keeping two, and we’re thinking of finally getting Dr. Amy Jones a little brother. We’re just waiting to hear back from the vet. (Being a responsible pet owner, Miss Fee is arranging to get them desexed, chipped, and vaccinated.)

It’s been a busy week at work; the TC Sale is supposed to launch tomorrow; and on top of everything… it looks like Dr. Amy Jones is SICK! She was really weird last night, roaming the house and never really settling down. And then today we suddenly noticed that she’s going to the litterbox really frequently. (This morning it was like 3-4 times in half an hour.) I think the poor thing has a UTI. I’ve just called the vet and we’re going to take her in tonight. I feel awful for not noticing sooner. I know how painful that is for a human, so I hate to think she’s been trying to tell us that she’s hurting.

Update: And we’re back. The vet explained that cystitis in cats can be caused by a number of factors: stress, infection, crystals in urine, or even cancer. Her age makes cancer unlikely, and he didn’t feel any stones during the examination. So we’re going to treat her for an infection and hope that clears it up. He gave her a shot of anti-inflammatory something-or-other and a prescription of tablets. We just shoved the first one down her throat and – thank goodness – she seems to have eaten it without too much drama.

All up it cost us about ninety bucks. Do any of you have pet insurance? I was asking the lady at the vet about when it becomes a good idea. She seemed to think that a younger, strictly indoor female cat was probably a low risk, and it wasn’t really necessary. Given that we’ve had her for 4.5 years and this is the first treatment she’s ever had (beyond yearly checkups), I think we’re ahead of the curve. I’m just wondering when to start thinking about it…