snip

"Castration" is such an ugly word. Kinda makes your naughty bits shrivel up inside you just to see it written, huh, guys?

I hadn't seriously considered taking this unpleasant step with my kittens until they were at least six months old. However, when Friday was caught in flagrante delicto with an alluring and in-heat Nala last weekend, the timetable for the operation became "as soon as possible." I brought him into my room and scolded his horny little ass. "I thought you were a gayboy!" He refused to specifically answer any questions about his sexual preference, and all I got out of him was his patented, defiant, fuck you mommy glare. (For the record, and to everyone's great relief, Nala is not "with kittens" from this abrupt courtship)

After talking to the vet's office, I decided that today would be the best day to bring them in for the snippage. They must've sensed something was afoot, because I looked over by my bed last night and saw Friday mounting Thirteen with the urgency of a sailor who's been out to sea for too long. Of course, I broke it up - I've no objection to gay cat sex, but incest is right out. Can't really blame the little guy, though, for wanting to take his nuts for one last spin around the block. A farewell to nards.

Both boys were strangely subdued when I took them in this morning, as if they'd resigned themselves to their fate. Even the rectal thermometer didn't cause as much thrashing as usual. And the kittens didn't seem to mind, either. I felt terrible leaving them at the office, but I knew it was a necessary step in their lives, and there was nothing for it but to go home and recover some of the sleep I'd lost while they were pinballing all over my room last night.

I picked them up a little after four this afternoon, and nearly $500 later, they had booster shots, rabies shots, microchips, pain meds, and empty nutsacks. Friday has been sleeping pretty steadily since I let him out of the carrier, but Thirteen is nearly as feisty as he is on days when he hasn't had his testicles removed. When I took him out of the carrier and put him on the bed, he immediately began to purr and play, biting, clawing, climbing, toy chasing - he even went over and started rabbit kicking Friday in the head (revenge, I would guess, for last night's attempted buttsex). This post has taken me even longer than usual to write, as Thirteen has been on my lap for much of the time, putting in his two cents' worth by smacking the numeric keypad at every opportunity (I believe that 000000000323240....0000000, roughly translated, means my mommy sucks).

The recovery looks to be off to a promising start for both kitties, but I ask you all to light a candle tonight, in memory of The Ghosts of Gonads Past.