On Monday I took Darcy into the vets to be spayed. I hated doing it to her, and felt so mean putting her in the cat carrier. She sat hunched at the far end, her big eyes looking up at me. I felt like such a traitor.
When we got there, as the vet was examining her, she kept cuddled up to me, which was very sweet. The vet thought at first that my guess of 4 months was about right. Until he looked in her mouth. She has all her adult teeth which puts her at least at 6 months. Wow. At that point he said he'd better check she's not pregnant. Thankfully she wasn't. It did seem unlikely as the weather was so cold before she came in, and cats generally start to come into season once the temperature heads up again.
I had to leave her there, and then I had to go to Birmingham for two days to a work conference. This meant that Mark and Stella picked her up and she is with them until Friday when she will go to Sue's. I found myself on the Tuesday night, sitting all alone in a hotel room, and worrying about her. I phoned Stella on Wednesday morning to check, and yes, she was just fine. Sitting up in the pen, desperate to get out and play with all the cats.
I'm so glad, she can just enjoy the rest of her life now. Wonderful.
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