Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Kitteh on Drugz

So I took the Captain to get ‘castrated’ today as they call it here.  I put him in his carrier this morning and began the trek across town to the veterinary office, and I could feel him vibrating the whole way there, though he made it without fear pooping, which is always good.  The doc and his assistant took him, and asked if I wanted to watch. Hell no, thanks. I feel bad enough, let alone with him looking at me and knowing I was responsible for him getting his manhood chopped off.  They told me it would only take a half hour, which was surprising, I thought I would have to come back and pick him up later in the day.  So I hung out and chatted with the other woman that worked there, and soon they brought me kitty in his carrier, wobbling back and forth with pupils the size of, well, his whole eye.   I get him home and open his carrier to see if he can even do anything, and he only makes it as far as his neck, with his paw reaching desperately out in front of him waiting for the couch to stop moving in circles I suppose.  He looked terrified, as I would be as well if someone shot me full of drugs and removed one of my body parts in under 30 minutes, so I tried to lay down with him so he could cuddle and maybe feel slightly comforted.  This went well, until I moved too quickly to scratch his head and he thought that demons were swooping in to end his life and he rocketed off the couch using his back claws in my arm as a catapult.  I looked to the floor, and he lay there in a drug-induced blob of fur, eyes wild with fear and non-understanding of his ability to run or accurately assess his spatial surroundings.  I brought him back up to the couch for attempt #2.  He feebly tried to nuzzle his head under my arm, but couldn’t keep it steady and his eyes were still the size of saucers.  He kept nudging forward until he was at the edge of the couch and slowly tried to extend his paws toward the floor, succeeding, yet not figuring out how to get his back half down there with him…so I helped him with that step.  He teetered and wobbled toward the dresser, and 5 minutes later, made it the 2 feet and then began to army crawl in an attempt to get under the dresser. His back half was still not with him at this point, so he splayed his back legs apart as far as possible and just drug them, while fear peeing due to his complete lack of comprehension of the world. Or numbness. Or a combination of both. Hooray for hardwood floors.  Let us also note that his ‘area’ is dyed green from what I’m not sure, I’m guessing something similar to an antiseptic that happens to be green in these parts.  Anyway, he continues to make his way along the wall at a painfully slow and swirvy/wobbly-type pace, eyes still blasted open all the while.  I follow him, and he is going for the litter box! Such a good kitteh… sooooo effed up and still manages to make it to the toilet… I’m so proud :) After this, I decide to put him back in his carrier so he can just relax and hopefully not have a complete mental breakdown.  A few hours later, he emerges, with an apparent higher awareness of what is happening in the world, walks in a few circles, stares at me in wonder, eats two kibbles, and passes the eff out.  Still sleeping as I write this.  Rough day for the kitteh.  I hope that when he wakes up and assesses his ‘situation’ that he doesn’t hate me and still wants to cuddle :(  This may have seemed like an extensive explanation of such an event, but it provided me massive entertainment for a few hours. 
I haven’t blogged much lately because I haven’t been in the greatest place mentally, and have been doing some serious soul searching and assessment of what it is exactly that I’m doing over here, what I need to do over here, what I want to do over here, what I’m ‘supposed’ to do over here, and everything in between.  I even questioned briefly whether I should be here at all, and am also trying to figure out what kind of work I’m supposed to be doing when I return to the states, even though this may be a premature thought process.  I have decided that another Masters is not on the list of desires, at least for now.  Everything here that causes any kind of stress, frustration, annoyance, or any other negative feeling… is maximized and much more intense, due to (at least for me) the simple fact that my entire support system is on the other side of the planet.  It can appear from most of my blogs that everything is wonderful and magical and great and happy, but that definitely isn’t the case all the time.  I tend to put anything that doesn’t come off as completely fabulous in a written journal instead…which has its pros and cons, just as anything does :) 
Doing so, however, can also make the negative much worse, when it feels like everyone back home thinks everything is fabulous when its really not.  So here is me saying its not easy.  There, I feel better.
What I would love right now is a maple bar.