Yesterday was a stressful day for our little apartment-hold. Nelix was neutered. For all of you men out there who winced, I apologize. I was feeling a bit guilty on Tuesday when we had to take away his food and water. Before bed, he was also locked away in the bathroom so he wouldn't get into Fiske's food.
Nelix is always a trooper when it comes to getting in his cat carrier, so Ben and I were able to whisk him out the door bright and early. The Chicago Animal Welfare League (the rescue where we found our little fuzzy bundle of energy) will neuter/spay any animal adopted from the rescue free of charge, which is wonderful, but they have a very assembly line check-in procedure, and suddenly, Nelix was being rushed into the back for his "spa day" at the vet's office.
For those of you unfamiliar with the process, the neuter surgery is an out-patient procedure where the male kitten is taken home at the end of the day. So Ben and I both worked our respective jobs before meeting again to pick the little rascal up. When we arrived, there are lots of people and animals waiting for service. I signed us in as "neuter pick-up" and found a spot standing along the wall with Ben. We then waited a good half of an hour before we were called up. The staff explained his post-op care, and I was more than ready to see Nelix and get home (poor Fiske probably thought we abandoned him). The vet tech then approached me and said, "I might need you to come back with me. He is not happy and is hissing really badly."
One thing one must know about Nelix is that he has never cursed in his life. Only happy sounds have escaped his mouth in the four months he has been with the family. So I was concerned. Had this experience changed my sweet, albeit devilish, kitten into a hell cat? Another vet tech took our cat carrier into the back and coaxed him in. Sure enough, he was letting out a stream of curse words that would shock a cat sailor! And growling too!
The car ride revealed the extent of Nelix's disorientation. He was growling, hissing, and asking to be pet all at the same time. Even when we let him out at home, he wobbled quickly away and wouldn't let Ben or myself close to him. Now I am officially emotionally distraught. But with patience and soothing words, we were able to give him his meds, cut off his vet collar, and even try to put the cone on him (didn't work, he could get out).
By the end of the evening, he was snuggling with me in bed (still would get confused and growl when I think he meant to purr), and fell asleep smack dab in the middle of my pillow. Even for the inconvenience it caused us as we attempted to share a pillow, Ben and I were just happy that calm had been restored...
until 11:30 when Nelix started attacking Fiske. Too bad he had to spend a second night in the bathroom.