W-wa Jeziorki: Céleste is sterilised

Another inevitable heartbreaking moment. I called the vet on Monday and arranged to drop off Céleste on Friday morning for sterilisation. Nearly ten weeks after she gave birth, the risk of her falling pregnant again was growing by the day. Unfamiliar tomcats have started showing up; Céleste has been asking to be let out at night in no uncertain way.

All week I had this feeling that the cats were expecting that some big bad event will happen. When and to whom they did not know. They all paced around in a state of rare unease. Céleste would often look up at me with a questioning expression on her face.

Wednesday and Thursday saw Céleste still busily feeding her brood. All five kittens clustered round her, chugging away noisily.

The cat carrying box was made ready last night; I slept in as late as I could, getting out of bed at half-past seven, quickly got dressed, popped Céleste into the box and put her in the car. Then I returned to feed all the other cats (vets operate on cats with empty digestive tracts, so Céleste got no breakfast). Then I returned to the car and drove the short distance to the vets, arriving at ten to eight. Outside there was already one patient (a Yorkie) with its owner waiting; a minute I arrived another car pulled in with a cat and its owners. It's a busy time for the vets.

The vet called me around one pm, I drove over to collect Céleste. As with Wenusia's op, this one went smoothly. Below: Céleste has just woken up from the anaesthetic. The kaftan is on. I asked the vet to put it on, as I was completely unable to do this for Wenus on my own.

She was soon at home, surrounded by her kittens. Céleste was in better shape, not shivering and shaking as Wenusia was on return from the vets. She now needs to spend the whole of next week in the house, wearing a kaftan. This was a real problem with Wenusia, who during the last days of her involuntary confinement sought to take every chance to escape outdoors. Below: Céleste has just woken up from the anaesthetic. She is groggy and confused by the unfamiliar surroundings.

Below: back home, Céleste lay down on the doormat, surrounded by kittens Wiktor, Kwińcia and Dorian.

Neither Wenus nor Céleste will be bringing any more kittens into the world, lovely and sweet though kittens are. I keep telling myself that it's for the best, as it was for her mum. The girls have already fulfilled their maternal purpose. Wenusia's character changed after the operation; she became aloof and started hissing at her offspring and and swiping at them with her paw; today spends most of her time outdoors, calling into the house twice or three times a day for a feed ("You treat my house as a diner!"). Her castrated sons might spend the night outdoors, but once they've eaten breakfast, they usually go out for a poo and then return to my front room for an all-day snooze, punctuated by leisurely walks to the kitchen for the regular openings of tins or sachets of cat food. My front room has become a feline gentleman's club.

Wenusia had her op 16 weeks after giving birth; Céleste a full six weeks earlier. I would recommend not leaving it. This is a good time. The sooner the better, the quicker the recovery.

Right now, Friday evening, she's in the kitchen sitting on her haunches, her gaze fixed on the floor. She's been like that for the past hour. I wonder what thoughts are going through her head? Is she aware of what the humans have done to her? Would she regret not being able to give birth again? Or does she feel relief that she will never have to repeat that experience?

In the meantime, my current priority is to survive to next Friday morning, when I can finally remove the kaftan and let Céleste out into the garden. She needs fattening up too. Having spent two months on her side breastfeeding, and losing hair, Céleste is stick-thin, resembling a weasel. So her calls to be let out will be answered with cat food and milk (and plain Greek-style yogurt).

Will Céleste's character change? I hope not. I know that her long hair will grow back (the vet confirmed this too) and she will regain her grace and beauty.

Kittens bring great joy, especially between the second and fourth month of their development. All that scampering, play and softness. However, I know that neither my budget nor the size of my house can accommodate another litter. If I can find a new home for Memphis and Kwintesencja, on the basis that their new owner(s) want whole females that will one day deliver kittens, then they will go. If not, I will have them sterilised and hold my cat count at twelve.

[In other feline news: yesterday evening, having come back from my walk, I noticed that the internet wasn't working. A kitten had chewed through the power cable for the router. This is my second kitten-related cable loss, the first being the charger for my phone. Fortunately, I found a 220V-in/10V-out cable with the same connector in the attic from an old router, this cable being about three times thicker than the chewed one. I had to buy a replacement phone-charger cable (59 zł); again I bought the thickest one in the shop.]

Update, Saturday 1 August: in the cat tower, the kittens cluster around their mum, who spent a comfortable night. From the left (looking down) is Memphis ('Fisia'), then Mars, centrally positioned is Wiktor, then looking down is Dorian ('Łobler'), Céleste, one eye opened, one eye closed, and above her, Kwintesencja ('Kwińcia').