parenthood

The man and I took Jack to the vet yesterday evening. I took the day off, partially to prepare for the vet but mostly because I had to take a personal day before the end of the fiscal year and this was the only day I didn't have meetings. Either way, much of the morning was spent watching the cat to see if he was going to crap in his litter box so that I could scoop it up and bag it for the vet. At the last veterinary visit the doc asked that when I return I bring a fecal sample (from the cat).

The shit collection process was distressing to both me and Jack. When he had finally done his business and finished the subsequent "burial of all evidence" ritual, I scooped out the poo and placed it on a dustpan so I could ready myself with the ziploc baggy. Jack then frantically tried to cover the crap with anything found on the floor, any miniscule amount of dust that his little kitty paws could kick onto the dustpan. He looked at me with an expression that said "What the hell are you doing? Someone will see this: I just buried this crap! How dare you place it out in the open?" as if he were trying to dispose of a dead body and I had just invited the feds over for coffee. After bagging the evidence I put it in a nondescript brown paper bag with the not-so-nondescript label of "'Jack': fecal sample." With that out of the way I was able to go about the rest of the day.

The day was good...Then we went to the vet. They (the vet staff) all love Jack because he is on his best behavior when we go to their office. He also pulls out all the stops in magnifying his cuteness so that it has the power to outshine the sun. When it came time to take a blood sample, the vet's assistant held down my baby while the vet STUCK A NEEDLE THE SIZE OF A PENCIL IN HIS LEG! Okay, I was calm, but couldn't look at the horrors before me - I let the man look on to make sure no real harm would befall our baby. Then, THEY MISSED THE VEIN AND HAD TO DO IT AGAIN! Jack was a champ though: he didn't move or cry or try to bite their faces off as he sometimes does when we are so much as existing in his presence.

I'm not a wuss. I have experience dealing with doctors and needles and scalpels. I voluntarily give blood regularly. But, I was distraught by the vet people holding down my cat and pulling out his blood. If the man hadn't been there, I would've dealt with it and been fine, but I'm glad he was there to stand guard as they did their work so I didn't have to witness it. If this is what it is like to be a parent, then I am glad that I don't have any inclination toward breeding. I'll stick to mothering cats, dogs and fish.

The good news is that his blood came back clear of disease and his feces was clean of parasites. It'll be at least three months before they remove his manhood. It will be good to have the balance swing back in favor of the teste-less in our bedroom habitat. Oh, by the way. Jack has tripled in weight from 1 lb. to over 3 lbs. in less than five weeks. This further evidences our belief that Jack is part dingo, part bobcat.