I picked up my little Nanners from the vet yesterday after her kitty mastectomy. I was so happy to hear she had come through the surgery fine, and a little sad that she had to recover yet again from surgery in the first place. I've had her for 12.5 years, and through that time she has
  1. Been spayed
  2. Had part of her tail amputated after Katie closed the door on it (Katie was only 1.5 years old at the time)
  3. Had a dental (so just anesthesia, not surgery)
  4. Had an abcess cleaned up/drained (from her one and only cat fight)
  5. Had a kitty mastectomy

So as you can see, I'm pretty used to groggy Annie, used to giving her post-surgery antibiotics and pain meds, etc. I still felt so sorry for her, and we set up a little recovery suite for her in our downstairs bathroom and had planned to spoil her with comforts and love while she was only half-herself.

Of course, this is Annie, though, and so as soon as I let her out of her cage, she was writhing on the ground and purring with love (despite the 3 inches of stitches starting right in her armpit and going down her right/middle) and trying to get out of her recovery suite. She doesn't seem to mind having almost half of her body shaved, the 3 inches of cut apart and sewn together body, the pain, or anything.

When I look at my kitty, half-bald, with a 3-inch scar and missing her right mammary gland, it is easier to see how people can stand to look at me bald, with a 3-inch scar and missing my right mammary gland. When you care about something (or, with me and Nan, love it to pieces), it is possible to not even care about the missing parts*. I just feel so lucky to have whatever parts of her still with me - hopefully purring and writhing with love for many more years!

*Bill (and, to a lesser extent, Emma) has been trying to point this out to me, but actually feeling the emotion myself seems to have made the message hit home better.

No comments: