The Vet

I just took Meg to the vet to be spayed and I feel dreadful. No food after 9pm last night, no water after 8am this morning. She was actually rather good about not complaining about the lack of food. Usually her food bowl always has something in it. I set my alarm for 8am this morning as the vet said to drop her off between 8.30am and 10.30am. When I got up, however, she wasn't in the house, so about 9.15am I went looking for her and found her sleeping in the long grass down the back lane, very near where she used to live. I carried her all the way home, and then it was a fight to get her into the cat carrier. She knows it means the vet's. Eventually I had to stand it on its end and drop her in from the top, but even that was difficult. The drive there wasn't so bad, though she was meowing/crying and looking at me like I'd betrayed her.

I have to pick her up between 2.30pm and 3pm. They'll call me. I feel so responsible making decisions about her health though. It seems cruel to make her go through being on heat every four weeks, and though I was initially excited about her having kittens I also soon realised the responsibility of finding good, kind homes for them. So the only option is to have her spayed, but she's such an independent, free spirit who comes and goes when she likes I also feel bad about putting her into a cat carrier and forcing her to have an operation.

I'll be so glad when I have her home again today.

UPDATE: Meg is home now and still in shock from the day. She's upstairs semi-sleeping. I feel so sorry for her. Hopefully it won't be too long before she feels like herself again.