Order No Rainbows

Life as an expat, Photography, Crafts, Vegan Food, Music, Art, Animals…..

Peace has been restored!

on March 2, 2014

Until recently I’ve always had male cats, so was blissfully unaware of the hell that is involved in living with a female cat that is in season. Until a few weeks ago. At the beginning of February I asked the vet when I could have Lulu, whom I adopted in December at the age of 3 months, spayed, as I didn’t want to even risk adding to the large number of stray/feral cats that live in this town. He told me not to worry, she wouldn’t need to be spayed until she was 6 months old and came into season for the first time. Famous last words…

First there was the crazy growling noise made while racing round the (very small) flat. Then there was crazy sideways dancing with her hair standing on end. Then the rolling and wriggling started. And then it got worse. Much worse. The howling, wailing and shrieking at all hours of the day and night, which got her banished from the bedroom. The racing around. The wriggling with her tail to one side and her butt in the air, and tripping me up every time I moved. The escape attempts, including jumping off the (second-floor) balcony, which scared the life out of her, and me. And did I mention the sudden fixation with my shoes? Sniffing them, chewing them, jumping on them every time she got a chance. I’m now convinced my feet smell like a randy tomcat, which isn’t doing much for my self-esteem!

I started Googling and confirmed my suspicions. Google said to expect between 7-10 days of this behaviour, and then a break of 3-4 weeks before it started again. Allowing for the time which had already passed since the onset of the nightmare I expected just a couple of days more before a break. But no, it went on for a further 8 days after the Google diagnosis. Then there was indeed a break before it started again – 5 days later, for another 7 days. I kid you not. I thought I was going to go insane (at one point I was even wondering how long it would take to drown her), and Lulu wasn’t doing much better…

So on Friday I fooled Lulu into letting me catch her and insert her into the cat carrier and we went to the vet. And the vet duly worked a miracle. 6 hours later Lulu was returned to me minus her ovaries and wearing a body bandage which bears a hilarious similarity to a string vest, but with her previous mild, sweet nature restored. She has made strenuous efforts to remove the bandage, which means it now has lots of holes in it and her fur is sticking through in places, making her look even more like a furry little hillbilly, but it’s holding firm in the necessary parts. And despite one toilet-paper-shredding incident (bad Lulu!), she appears to be back to normal. Or at least as normal as she’s ever going to be. And I’m a lot happier having had a few nights uninterrupted sleep. Long may it continue.

It baffles me as to why anyone leaves a cat un-spayed and tolerates this awful behaviour every few weeks, never mind the frightening possibility of their cat producing a litter of kittens every few months if the cat gets what they want. Admittedly it wasn’t cheap having Lulu spayed, but the peace of mind that has ensued is priceless.

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