Read the Fine Print

Well...didn't I feel like a tool today! Our local humane society has just recently started early spay/neuter of kittens and puppies before adopting them into their forever homes. Yesterday I saw the first of these! It was a lovely, bouncy, black and white MALE 16 week old kitten. Mid-way through my 'kitten talk', I started my usual feel for the testicles to make sure they were where they should be. Nothing. Checked to make sure it was a boy. Yup. Sometimes, one of the testicles won't descend into the scrotum, and instead hangs out in the inguinal area (inner thigh) or abdomen (belly). This is called cryptorchidism and these boy bits need to be removed as they like to become cancerous. Even more rarely, neither testicle will descend. This is known as bilateral (both sides) cryptorchidism and I wondered if this kitten would be my first of these cases. As said kitten was being a major squirming unit, I took it into the treatment area to have my technician hold him for a better look. On closer inspection, under the fur, I could see the healing incisions of a castration surgery. Sure enough, a closer look at the file revealed that this kitten had been neutered at 8 weeks of age! Hello!

I walked back into the examination room, feeling sheepish, and admitted to the owner that I had been looking for something that wasn't there, and didn't I feel the fool! Luckily they laughed (while likely wondering how competent their veterinarian was!). Always read the fine print!

Timber the Chewie Whore

There's no polite way to put it. I have discovered that Timber the samoyed is a chewie whore.

I've been feeling quite under the weather lately and, as a result, have been spending as much time huddled under the covers as time will allow. Last night was no exception. I was feeling rather sorry for myself when Timber, uncharacteristically, jumped onto the bed and crawled his way across it until he was snuggled up next to me, his head under my arm. "Awww", I thought. Timber understands that I'm not feeling well and is trying in his doggy way to do what he can. I'm so naive. However, I'm not to be blamed, because Timber was demonstrating a level of subtly formally unknown to him.

As I gave him scritches, he turned himself over onto his back, stretching himself with little grunts and groans. Ok, this was pushing it, even for Timber. He has a massive coat and usually finds about 2 minutes on the bed more than he can handle before he gets too warm. Then a lightbulb, albeit a dim one, went on above my head. Toby was on the floor beside us, chewing on a piece of rawhide he'd managed to scrounge somewhere in the house. Timber didn't have one. Timber kept shooting glances at Toby whilst nudging me yet again. Darn it. In no way was my dog acting on his Lassie-like need to succor an ailing loved one. He just wanted a flippin' chewie! To test my theory I said, "Chewie?" Off the bed in a flash, I found him in the kitchen sitting eagerly next to the pantry door where said chewies are stored. Nice. My dog has learned to prostitute himself for treats.