My little man is growing up so fast.
Batman, who just turned 11 months old, (not that it’s on the calendar or anything), is spending his first night away from me since we brought him home. He’ll be gone tomorrow, too. Where is he, you wonder? At the vet.
What’s he doing there, you ask? Getting declawed.
(I’ll allow you a moment to dry your tears and pull yourself together. I know I need it.)
Yes, Batman is at the vet, getting declawed. Coleman and I had a really hard time deciding whether we should have it done or not, but after discussing it with other cat owners, we decided it would be the best choice.
So, I woke up this morning, washed my face, cried, threw up, peed my pants, found Batman’s carrier, and got ready for the vet.
Poor Batman hadn’t had any food or water since 10:00 last night, and he did not understand why I didn’t fill his food or water bowls this morning as usual. He sat patiently at his empty place mat with his empty bowls, looking wide-eyed at me, crying, “Mama! Mama! Why won’t you feed me? Don’t you love me anymore?”
I teared up as he walked around the house, clawing at things like he usually does as he’s waking up.
“Oh! He’s pulling little strings out of the living room rug for the last time!” I thought to myself.
“Get the camera! This will be the last time he scratches that chair!”
“Ouch! He accidentally scratched my arm! Quick, remember this moment forever, since it will be the last.”
I talked to him as we drove to the vet.
“Don’t worry, you’re just going to be gone two nights.”
“Say, hypothetically, you weren’t going to see me for a couple of days. Then say, hypothetically, on Wednesday, I showed back up to bring you home. Would you still love me?”
“I promise. Bandages on your teeny tiny paws will look so cute! You won’t even feel a thing.”
I may or may not have gotten honked at once or twice while at stop lights. But it’s not my fault I didn’t see them turn green while I was conversing with my cat!
Finally, we were at the vet, sitting on a bench with dogs barking and jumping all around, me trying to remain calm and Batman staring wide-eyed at a giant Husky who could swallow him whole, should he somehow escape his kitty carrier.
“Batman McIntyre?” the lady behind the counter called. I carried him over to her.
“Do you have any questions for the doctor?” she asked me.
“No,” I said. “I’ll pick him up on Wednesday night?”
“Yep. Wednesday night.”
“Oh. Ok. Ok. Great. Heh. Perfect,” I mumbled.
“Well, that’s it. Say goodbye, Batman!” The lady held the carrier up so I could say farewell. Then, she turned to carry him to the back room.
“Um,” I said. The lady turned around. “He’s wearing a collar.”
“Ok,” she said. “I’m sure they’ll take it off before the surgery.”
“Sure. Ok. Oh wait! His toy frog is in the carrier with him.”
“Ok, wonderful,” she said. “We’ll make sure it comes home with him.”
“Ok. Ok great. That’s it?”
“That’s it! Bye bye!”
“Oh. Ok. Bye.” I turned and walked out of the office.
I called them a few hours later. “This is Jillian McIntyre. I just wanted to call and see how Batman McIntyre is doing. He got declawed this morning.”
The lady on the other end of the phone said that everything went well and reassured me that he was doing fine. “He’s all doped up right now. I’m sure he’s feeling pretty good.”
“Ok, good,” I said. “Thanks.”
“The doctor will call you once Batman wakes up a little more to give you an update,” she said.
So, I’m waiting for her call. I mean, it’s not like I’ve been carrying my phone with me all around the house. I didn’t turn up the ringer volume allll the way, as to make sure I wouldn’t miss a call. It’s not like I’ve checked my phone every three minutes, just in case I didn’t hear it ring.
Oh wait. Hold on.
Ok, sorry. I thought my phone was ringing.