Surgery

Our little kitten is growing up. She went into heat a week ago - was it from the Sam Cooke valentine? - and this morning we took her to the vet to be spayed. It was hard to watch her being taken into the bowels of the animal hospital by a perfect stranger. They'll call later when she wakes up to tell us she's doing fine, and to make an appointment to pick her up tomorrow morning. I hope she forgives us.

I also hope Professor Remus J. Lupin will still love her like he did before. Will she smell different? On the bright side, he'll be happier if she never goes into heat again. She tried all of her womanly wiles on him, and he was totally clueless. She persued him until he had to hide in the basement sometimes to get a break from her. He was fixed seven and a half years ago and has never felt the urge.

Meanwhile, the house seems very empty without her boundless energy. I can actually work in the kitchen without having to put her back on the floor every ten seconds and then wash my hands again. Otherwise, she would be running around, swatting every potential cat toy - meaning every thing - in the house, including The Perfesser. He has been looking for her around corners, expecting her to pounce as usual. I think he misses her. Me too.