I had my two kittens, Zebulon and Jezebel, “fixed” yesterday. They were both still pretty damn groggy last night, and though a trifle more alert this morning, both clearly recovering from surgery. Zeb, poor little castrated sweetie, can’t get up to his two favorite windowsill perches without help, so I left a chair next to one and an overturned bucket next to the other to make it easier for him.
I’m sure they’re both just snoozing and recuperating – but I wish I could call them up and coochy-coo to them a bit. I’d call and leave a message on the machine, but my coworkers would laugh at me.
I should have been more specific – the 'orkers are in fact underlings, since I’m the boss. And since I’m totally the mean, evil, bitchy type of boss ( ), I can’t let them discern my softer side.
So I waited till two of 'em were at lunch and the third was talking to someone elsewhere in the building, and then called and crooned at the beasties.
But they swear they never turn on the computer when I’m not home! (Damn, maybe I should start checking the cache more regularly…)
vetbridge – I’ve been taking kitties to the Mt. Airy Animal Hospital in Philly for about 20 years, so at one time or another, I’m sure one of your buds has poked one of my cats.
I used to work with a guy who was 6’ 4" and like 300 lbs and he would call home and talk to his little toy poodle. It was hilarious. He never cared that I laughed at him either.
Libby the crazy kitty was spayed on Monday. She came home wobbled around and ran into walls then hid under my bed all night. I put her gingerly in the litter box yesterday morning and she peed for England. I went home from work at lunch time to check on her and make sure she was doing OK. She was much better last night and this morning assumed her rightful place sitting next to the sink as I was cleaning my teeth and yelled at me for the cone I am making her wear