love kitty

Our sweet little kitten is not so little any more. Boy cats started showing up at night. Paul even caught one guy peeing on our front door. Eww. The time had come. It was time to get Mochi fixed.

But when I called my old vet, I about fell off my chair when they quoted a price of $400 bucks to do it! $400 dollars! Holy cow! Oh no, I though. We’ll have to give her away. But then the very nice nurse lowered her voice and gave me the phone number of a ‘mobile unit’ and, still shell shocked, I wrote the number down and called. Yep, turns out an enterprising vet has set up a surgical unit in an RV and drives around to various towns doing low cost spay and neuter services, cash only, no kidding. $70. Wow. I signed our girl up on the spot.

Now, if it were me being fixed, I sure would hope that my owner would spring for the deluxe spa vet and not the chop shop, assembly line, RV surgery. But, no. Sorry Mochie. It’s the RV for you.

But really, the people I spoke with were extremely professional, streamlined, and competent (they seemed very competent, anyway—how would I really know?). The vet herself did have a lip piercing, which isn’t what one expects, but then, the whole operation seemed innovative and out there, so why not? Bye, Mochi, see you in a few hours….

She’s fine, by the way, has been home for several days.

They fixed (as if they were broken) 34 critters that day in the RV, including a half-dozen feral cats that had been caught in traps, poor babies, they were so freaked out. 34! I wonder which number Mochi was? I hope not one of the 30+.

But here’s the thing I noticed. Around 6pm, we, the owners, were all pulling up outside the RV to pick up our pets, parking our cars in the mud and standing around in the cold. There’s a big sign on the RV that says “DO NOT DISTURB!!” and so, of course, no one is going to touch that door because maybe some kitty gets jabbed the wrong way with a scalpel or something, but it’s so cold and we’re all sinking into the mud, and they were running behind because of the whole 34 thing, and still, everyone was smiling.

I mean, this was an occasion of extreme waiting where one would expect to see many grumpy people. Increasingly grumpy people. But nope. There were well dressed people on their cell phones, country people in their overalls, suburban people with their kids, older people hobbling in with canes, all sorts, and we were all smiling at each other, genuinely relaxed, and it would seem, open hearted.

I think it was because of the pets. We were there to get our babies. As each carrier was brought out and discharged, the person would accept the groggy cat with sweet little mutterings and cooing and putting fingers through the carrier grill, all smiling and apologetic about the whole drugging-you-and-taking-your-organs thing. It was so sweet to see each person open up to their critter! Parents in doctor’s offices waiting on kids are rarely as sweet as we all were with our pets. It was like the scene at the end of “Love, Actually” where people are getting greeted by their families at the airport, faces open and happy (which is rarely what I have experienced in real life airports, even in the receiving areas, but that scene is awesome, and just how it should be). I guess our animals have the power to cut right through the crap in our personalities and get a pass directly into our hearts. I think that is so cool. That there would be one area in life, one’s pet, where one’s heart stays open, no matter what. What a gift!

They handed me the carrier and I was so happy to see her. And what a sweetie, she start purring as soon as she sees me and licks my finger, even though she’s just been through, basically, an alien abduction scenario of the worst kind. What a love muffin.

(Here she is sleeping off her pain meds in one of her favorite spots, Chez Cardboard Box.)

I never would have thought waiting an hour in the muddy, cold, dark would have been pleasant, even enjoyable, but it was, like we were all getting presents we really wanted.

Which I guess we were.