I took her to the hospital Wednesday. It was the only way to stop the flouncy trollop from having babies. She never had a sense of personal responsibility when it came to this matter.
And there are enough kittens in the world. And Finn was no longer a kitten herself. Every tomcat west of the Santa Cruz was serenading her from the arroyo out back. I can see why. Great golden eyes, silky pewter fur, white socks and a come hither tail that dances like a frantic question mark.
So I searched the net and found a result I liked. “The HSSA Low-cost Spay & Neuter Clinic offers affordable, high-quality spay/neuter as well as affordable vaccinations.” There are so many cheap options like the Humane Society of Southern Arizona you can’t afford not to spay or neuter your pet. I love this cat. Never talks politics. Finishes my cereal. Grooms my hairy arms. Barfs furballs on my cartoons. We’re doing this.
The lady at the Humane Society of Southern Arizona gave me a gave me a to-do list when I made the sterilization appointment. “No food after eight. Water is fine.”
“What about the cat?” I said.
“Very funny,” she said.
“So no mice heads or moth wings after eight?”
“And no lizard toes.” Then she looked at me sideways. “Some people bring their cats to us in a pillowcase. That’s not allowed.”
I said, “Get out! People bring their kittens in pillowcases?”
“Yes. They do.”
“I thought pillowcases were strictly for throwing cats in a river. Where does the Humane Society recommend we throw pet owners who don’t get their pets sterilized?”
She smiled. “See you Wednesday. Bring Finn in her cat carrier.”
“I’m afraid her carrier, the USS Garfield, is away at sea. Off Cat-alina Island. Can I bring her in her cat-amaran instead? I have a picture of it here in this cat-alogue.”
“See you Wednesday.”
On any given day hundreds of critters with big wet eyes sadder than any Margaret Keane saucer-eyed alleycat painting are awaiting adoption at the Humane Society. Their beautiful new facility at 635 W. Roger Road is the cat’s meow. Thank you rich and poor donors who love animals.
I thank you. Southern Arizona’s dogs thank you. The cats have no clue.
At the appointed hour I showed up at the surgery clinic with clueless Finn in her cat carrier.
Soon the lobby was full of mewing kitties in their cat carriers. Cat Stevens. Feline Dion. Furry Freddy Mercury. Bobcat Marley. Josie and the Pussycats.They were all there, at our feet, singing the blues. Off-key. “Hey, humane lady, you get serenaded like this every morning?”
Over the choir of the condemned she shouted, “Five. Days. A week.”
I shouted back,“How many will Dr. Bobbit be bobbing today?”
“We’ve got 20 cats and dogs scheduled to be spayed or neutered.”
“Will Harvey Weinstein be coming in now or in the afternoon?”
Humane lady proceeded undaunted. “And when they leave they’ll all have a little tattoo identifying them as sterilized.”
“A tramp stamp would look cool.”
Humane lady’s “No” was definite.
At 3:30 my son and I returned to pick up Finn. She was high as a bat, purring like an outboard motor. Shaved tummy. Tiny scar. Little green tattoo. All good. The cat carrier purred all the way home while I reviewed pet care with my son, Matthew. “It’s summer. Make sure Finn always has plenty of fresh water. Keep her cool. And what happens to people who leave pets in their cars in the summertime?”
“They’re impaled on a stake and sentenced to eternity on a Costco chicken rotisserie.”
Such a good boy. So smart.
All our mutts and mongrels have come from no-kill critter shelters, the Humane Society or the Pima County Animal Care Center. Or they’ve been foundlings. Give us your tired, your whimpering, your canine and feline masses, yearning for second chances.
Tucson’s many no-kill shelters can always use volunteers, food and donations. Especially in summer when the sun bakes the world into forgetting.
A few weeks out from surgery, Finn is already pinballing around the house like a bumblebee in a shoebox, knocking my pens on the floor, taunting our two old Abyssinian eunuchs, batting at cords, leaving gifts on the back porch door mat, and chewing the printer paper like a lunatic. And walking all oooverrrr mmmyy keybbbooaaarrrrddd////////// whenever I’m trying to get some work done—like now—when I’m simply worrrrrrrrrrrking to remind readers that all creatures great and small deserve our love and kindness. And thattttttttttttt cossssttttt is no excusssse.
