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outsdrBy three o'clock in the afternoon, I'd finished all my work. My roommate had been checking the trap, and there was nothing in it. I'd reached my cut-off point for how long I was willing to keep the momma cat in the cage, so I drove home, put on my gloves, and picked up the cage with the mother cat in it, and headed for the vet's office.
Her assistant was gone for the day, but she had her husband there to help (Her office is built into her garage). We talked for a few minutes, although I can't remember about what it was anymore. Finally, however, my arm was tired from holding the trap, so I carried it into the examination room and put it on the table besides the carrier that held the kitten. The kitten immediately began crying, and the mother began calling back for it. It was pretty pitiful, and the vet said, "I don't really like this part of my job."
I said to her, "It takes a special kind of person to be a vet, honestly. And I'm not that kind of person; I realized that a long time ago. No matter how much I love animals, I'd never be able to be a vet."
She nodded. "So many people come through here and they say, 'Oh, I want to be vet someday because I LUV ANIMALS SOOOOO MUCH!!!' but all they think about are the fluffy puppies and kitties, they never consider things like, well, this..."
I shrugged and said, "You have to love animals enough to be able to do the right thing for them when it's necessary."
She shooed me out of her office as another customer arrived to pick up their cat. I told her I'd be back in 30 minutes, and went off to find something to eat. I ended up at McDonald's, and sat there with my chicken nuggets, just hoping that this could all be over soon. I'd started the rabies treatment, so I knew I was safe from that. All of the problem cats had been put down now, except for the final one to be caught, so they wouldn't be causing any more trouble in the future, and I wouldn't have to wake up in the night to hear cat fights underneath the trailer, and wonder how badly my wimpy cat was getting his ass handed to him this time, and would he need more "bubble-gum medicine", the anti-biotics the vet gave me that was bubble-gum pink and smelled like it too. And when the gray kitten was caught, I could get an answer to it's status as well. Was it rabid? Probably not. If I hadn't gotten the shots and taken any precautions, would it have turned out to be rabid? The perverse way the world works, probably so.
I got back to the vet's office close to 4 or 4:30. She told me that the mother cat had been a little difficult, because she'd burrowed down in the blanket and the knock-out gas hadn't put her to sleep. But it had made her groggy enough that the vet was able to reach in and inject her with enough sedative to knock her out, and then she could handle her well enough to put her out.
I told her I was going to set both traps when I got home, to hopefully double my chances to catch the gray kitten. I went home and did just that. I had been setting the traps in the same place now for two days, and it smelled like rotten tuna, scared cat, and crap. I took the blanket out of the trap and put it on the ground near the traps, thinking it might help attract the last kitten. The empty can of tuna and the water bowl from the trap went in the trash, and I baited it with a fresh can of tuna, set it on the ground, and went inside.
Talked to my roommate for awhile, then went to the bathroom to take care of a few things. I glanced out the window, and I could see that the cage door was closed on one of the traps. I ran outside to check, and there in the trap sat the little gray kitten that had inadvertently gotten the whole mess started.
Her assistant was gone for the day, but she had her husband there to help (Her office is built into her garage). We talked for a few minutes, although I can't remember about what it was anymore. Finally, however, my arm was tired from holding the trap, so I carried it into the examination room and put it on the table besides the carrier that held the kitten. The kitten immediately began crying, and the mother began calling back for it. It was pretty pitiful, and the vet said, "I don't really like this part of my job."
I said to her, "It takes a special kind of person to be a vet, honestly. And I'm not that kind of person; I realized that a long time ago. No matter how much I love animals, I'd never be able to be a vet."
She nodded. "So many people come through here and they say, 'Oh, I want to be vet someday because I LUV ANIMALS SOOOOO MUCH!!!' but all they think about are the fluffy puppies and kitties, they never consider things like, well, this..."
I shrugged and said, "You have to love animals enough to be able to do the right thing for them when it's necessary."
She shooed me out of her office as another customer arrived to pick up their cat. I told her I'd be back in 30 minutes, and went off to find something to eat. I ended up at McDonald's, and sat there with my chicken nuggets, just hoping that this could all be over soon. I'd started the rabies treatment, so I knew I was safe from that. All of the problem cats had been put down now, except for the final one to be caught, so they wouldn't be causing any more trouble in the future, and I wouldn't have to wake up in the night to hear cat fights underneath the trailer, and wonder how badly my wimpy cat was getting his ass handed to him this time, and would he need more "bubble-gum medicine", the anti-biotics the vet gave me that was bubble-gum pink and smelled like it too. And when the gray kitten was caught, I could get an answer to it's status as well. Was it rabid? Probably not. If I hadn't gotten the shots and taken any precautions, would it have turned out to be rabid? The perverse way the world works, probably so.
I got back to the vet's office close to 4 or 4:30. She told me that the mother cat had been a little difficult, because she'd burrowed down in the blanket and the knock-out gas hadn't put her to sleep. But it had made her groggy enough that the vet was able to reach in and inject her with enough sedative to knock her out, and then she could handle her well enough to put her out.
I told her I was going to set both traps when I got home, to hopefully double my chances to catch the gray kitten. I went home and did just that. I had been setting the traps in the same place now for two days, and it smelled like rotten tuna, scared cat, and crap. I took the blanket out of the trap and put it on the ground near the traps, thinking it might help attract the last kitten. The empty can of tuna and the water bowl from the trap went in the trash, and I baited it with a fresh can of tuna, set it on the ground, and went inside.
Talked to my roommate for awhile, then went to the bathroom to take care of a few things. I glanced out the window, and I could see that the cage door was closed on one of the traps. I ran outside to check, and there in the trap sat the little gray kitten that had inadvertently gotten the whole mess started.
