Fixing Klitchko

I don't know who had a more horrifying morning: me, or Klitchko. Though I'll wager it was him since he's the one who lost his balls.

Klitchko needed to be nuetered. I've known this since I got him, but things became more critical when Pheobe came into our family. Any more cats around my apartment and I really would become the running joke of the town.

Finding a vet proved harder than I thought it would be. Most people with pets never nueter them. It's considered "unnatural" so instead, they let their animals have babies twice a year, every year, and put the babies out on the street.

Jennifer's host mom, Anya, asked around for me and in the end, introduced me to a sweet old man who used to work at the Vetrinary Hosptial...somewhere. I never got the specifics. He agreed to nueter Klitchko for me, said he'd done it many times before, and that it would be quick and painless for my buddy. He would come to me, do it at my house, and all I would need to do was buy the drugs from the pharmacy.

At eight o'clock this morning, I knocked on his door. We then walked to the pharmacy where we bought some penicillin, iodine, and something to numb Klitchko's rear. I was hoping we'd also buy something to put him to sleep, but that didn't happen.

Once at my apartment, Alec got his tools out of his leather breifcase. He pulled out two small metal boxes full of scissors, tweezers, razors, string, syringes and large needles. It reminded me of the animal doctor in the Disney movie "The Rescuers Down Under." If you have no idea what I'm talking about, it's worth watching the movie just to understand my growing trepidation about what exactly the two of us where going to be doing to my cat.

Now comes the horrible part. Perhaps many years from now I'll be able to chuckle about things but right now, I'm still in shock. You should know that Klitchko is fine. He's alive (yes, there were some moments when I doubted it) and in good spirits all things considered, though I imagine his hangover will last him well into the night.

Our first and only problem was getting Klitchko to lie still so the dirty deed could be done. Alec looked all around my apartment for things "to help." First he asked me if I had any big jars. I found one for him, not sure what exactly he was going to use it for. I held Klitchko while Alec attempted to wrap gauze around his hind paws. Klitchko did not appreciate this and soon began meowing and growling. He never swung at me, but he swung at Alec and got him pretty good. Alec got one hind paw tied and then decided it would be best to tie Klitchko down on the stool in my kitchen.

I put him down and Alec tied his body to the stool. Klitchko wiggled out, but not before Alec bound his hind legs together. There was more meowing and growling. Alec was concerned that Klitchko would scratch me and bite me and I suppose that is why he shoved Klitchko's head into the jar. This of course, freaked my poor cat out even more. He meowed loudly and his meows echoed into his little head and he tried frantically to get out, wiggly and crying and growling. It was horrible. He manage to wiggle his way out of the jar, but not before breaking one of his bottom teeth on the glass.

I told Alec, no more jars! He's breaking his teeth on the jars! Alec agreed, deciding to tie Klitchko to the stool even more. He wrapped more gauze around Klitchko and the stool. He tried to wrap it around his kneck, but decided against it when he realized Klitchko would fight it until he choaked. He tied two towels around Klitchko and the stool and my poor baby just got more frantic. I don't blame him. I was feeling pretty frantic myself.

Then, Alec asked if I had any vodka.

He filled up one of his big syringes with vodka and forced Klitchko to drink it. Klitchko spat most of it out and Alec did it again and again. In all, he probably gave my little buddy 50 to 100 grams of vodka, maybe even more. It's hard to tell. Klitchko, drunk, fought slightly less. I was able to hold him while Alec went about his dirty business from behind. He sliced and popped out one little ball. Klitchko screamed and cried and I very nearly did too. Then Alec sliced and popped the other one, but this time, as he was doing it, Klitchko screamed really loud and then went totally limp.

I immediately began to panic. He's dead! I said over and over again. I didn't know how to say "He's passed out," or "He's fainted" and frankly, I thought he was dead. It took Alec a moment to realize what I was trying to say. Then he shook Klitchko but he only flopped around. Get water! Alec told me. I was frantic as I grabbed my tea kettle. Alec threw water on Klitchko but nothing happened. Then he began to quickly untie all the gauze and towels. He got his scissors and even cut through my decrative dishtowel. I kept pulling on Klitchko while he did that, trying to get him loose from the stool. He was limp. His eyes were gone. He wasn't breathing.

Alec took him from me and put him on the floor, splashing more water on him and kind of slapping him around. Alec was pressing on his chest and batting him around and I was sure that my little guy was a goner. I couldn't sense his presence and it freaked me out. I was seconds away from swooping in for some mouth-to-mouth when Klitchko took a small breath and I saw his little chest rise.

I started to cry. Klitchko looked at me as if from a haze and I was just so happy he was alive. Maybe he didn't die, but in my mind he had, and he'd come back to life. Alec slapped more water on him and Klitchko became more alert. He stood up, but then fell back down. He tried again and took a few drunken steps. Alec seemed almost as relieved as me. Don't cry, he told me. He's going to be okay. It's just the vodka. He's drunk, but he's going to be okay. This isn't the first time I've done this. Don't worry. Don't be sad. Then he came over and gave me a big, grandfatherly kiss on my cheek.

Alec left after a few minutes of observing Klitchko. He left behind iodine, some cotton, gauze and two little testicals that would make smashing earrings if that wasn't so disgusting.

Klitchko stumbled around my apartment for a little while before falling asleep on my lap. He's spent most of the day at my side. I thought he'd hate me for months, but I guess he's a sweet and forgiving drunk.

And I, I'm just happy he's alive and the deed is done and I'll never have to have such a horrifying morning again in my life.