Wednesday, 9 January 2008
No stitches required!
I love the bright light on a clear January day; it is different to any other time of the year and full of promise. Fresh green shoots from dormant bulbs push their way up through the earth, knowing that just around the corner comes the warmth and longer days of spring. Being an eternal optimist I love Spring - it's my favourite season; full of promise, freshness and the beginnings of life.
Pebble was still drowsy when I picked him up from the Cat Clinic. No stitches required! I asked how his testicles were removed without stitches and was given a very detailed account. It was micro-surgery at its best; tiny hole in each sac, then the little testicle is literally 'popped' out. The skin then shrinks down upon itself and closes up without the need for stitches. Very clever! Why had I envisaged it being such a big deal? Probably because so much emphasis is put upon male genitalia? Hmm, mainly by men me thinks? Anyway, Pebble didn't seem to notice their absence and he still races around the house, attacking Banjo at every opportunity to practice his male skills. I haven't the heart to tell him that he is not so male any more and he can stop the pretence. Banjo seems to have noticed a change in his physiology and is now getting tough with him. Pebble has been investigating his rear end, but still doesn't seem to notice the absence of two little marbles. I wonder what the vets do with them all?
He went back to the Vet today to have what's left of his genitalia checked out, ie no infection or resultant soreness. He was so terrified he wet the blanket in the Cat carrier - poor mite. Then when we arrived home he proceeded to act male again and attacked Banjo, who calmly swiped him round the head with her paw.
As for the online dating; today no emails or interest... perhaps I've now seen all there is in my age range and area of Oxfordshire. I have had to block one... he kept asking about my interest in erotic movies and couldn't wait to 'get it together' with me. He may be in his early fifties but he looked as if he was seventy at least; yes, youv'e guessed it, teeth were not good, hair combed over his head to hide the bald bit and eyes hidden by thick lensed glasses. Oh how I wish I could just walk into a pub or bar on my own and get talking to a nice man without him thinking I was on the prowl. Is Britain still old-fashioned in its views about single mature women out in bars? Or is it me?
Another... an amateur photographer said he could 'do me some very flattering photos' if I liked! How kind! I must ask the Vet for more details about testicle removal... preferably with stitches!