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I’m a Mean Old Lady

zoe, watching

Zoe (up top there) came to us as a baby, appeared on our front porch one night with a busted tail and a purr as big as a house. I put up a token resistance, but she was just too cute. And after the vet ripped most of her tail hair out removing a bandage, and she came and hid against my stomach, well, she was *my* cat.Zoe’s a hilarious personality, running over to place her paws on me when I raise my voice, a peacemaker. She’s a tiny little beauty, as svelte as a cat can be and still be healthy, mainly because she hasn’t yet been spayed. We were gearing up to move into the new house when it should have been done, and she went into heat immediately thereafter. Informed by a snotty veterinary assistant that we couldn’t have her snipped while she was in heat, we waited. And waited. And waited. She’s basically yowled at us for over a year and a half now. Recently she’s been answered by some neighborhood tom, so the need to get her repaired became imperative, before he decided that a 6 foot privacy fence, and a fully screened enclosure were no impediment to the Power of Love, bebeh.

So I took her in yesterday to have the deed done, and now, she’s not talking to me. Nope. Nothing to say to you, lady. I had a boyfriend and you ruined everything! Sob!

It’s like having an 8lb teenager. Good practice for the real thing, I suppose.