Last week, we took Miss Timmy, our “yard cat,” to the vet for a full check-up and vaccines. Most importantly, we needed to find out if she had been spayed. A quick tummy-shave revealed that the answer to that last item was “yes”—and we are much relieved on that account.
Miss Timmy is a dainty thing, so we’d been speculating that she’s young and not quite full grown, but the vet thinks she’s at least several years old, and probably five or six. One of her kidneys is smaller than the other, which is often a sign of aging, and she has several damaged teeth (though none are painful, we’re glad to report).
She had her first round of vaccines and will be going back twice more for various other shots. The rabies vaccine now comes as a nasal spray, which is less perhaps less painful than a shot, but we’ve found that it leaves a kitty with a runny nose and sneezes for several days after.
As you might suspect, Miss Timmy did not appreciate her little outing. I accompanied Melissa on this trip, and Timmy seems to have decided to blame the whole thing on me. (She is utterly besotted with Melissa, so can’t possible blame her for anything). I was never her favorite, but she used to rub up against my legs occasionally or sit companionably at a distance. Now, the moment I come into the yard, she’s off like a shot. I am trying not to take this personally. I have a whole summer ahead of me of knitting and gardening in the yard, and she’ll have plenty of time to realize that I’m not the monster she thinks I am.
What we’ve found particularly interesting is that in a subtle sort of way, Timmy now seems to know that she is “owned.” She did not like going to the vet—oh, no. But going to the vet means she has a home. She has a slightly more possessive, less furtive attitude these days. Her chosen people have chosen her, and even with evil me dropping by from time to time, she’s reached a new level of contentment.
Congratulations to you and to Miss Timmy!
We got our cat when she was four, but she looked like a scrawny kitten. Several years with us has turned her into a much “fluffier” cat. And she’s very spoiled and happy.
You’ve seen my furry blob, Dressie. When I adopted her from the barn, she was very small & we all thought she wasn’t more than a year or year & 1/2 old. The vet said uh-uh, more like 5. She also had some broken teeth and probably just hadn’t had a regular meal to account for the scrawniness. With food, (and of course, much love) she has bloomed. And has been my baby for 13 1/2 years now! She apparently overcame her rough start in life.
Timmy will come around – throw treats her way!