Enough time passed for Rocksy’s kitten to be old enough for surgery to “get fixed.” I guess you know what we had to do first? Yep. We had to give her a name. So, what do you name a cute little non-feral yellow cat with gold eyes? Nope – not Goldy! It had to be a unique name that in some way described her. When my grandmother was born, she was just called “Babe.” In fact, she was called that all her life. She didn’t get a name until she was a few years old and then she was named for two of her nieces. In olden days, some kids weren’t given names until their personalities emerged and then their names reflected their characteristics. Well, Rocksy’s kitten was old enough to get her own name! So what would it be? Hmmmm. A light bulb lit up in my brain. “I know what we’ll call her. She will be Pebbles because she’s a chip off the old Rocksy.” The name described her well. So, Pebbles it was – and sometimes Pebs.
She had a name, so we could take Pebbles to the Vet. That would be no problem, right? It would seem so. As with Rocksy, we put the kitten in the garage the night before her surgery. Since the kitten was not feral, she would come right to us. We wouldn’t have to worry about trying to catch her. And we didn’t. We put her in the cat carrier and off we went to the Vet. All the staff thought she was sooooo cute, and she was. They said they would call when she was ready to go home which would be before lunchtime.
When I got the call, the lady said, “Pebbles came through her procedure just fine, but we need to keep her a few hours longer. She’s still a bit groggy from the anesthesia. We’ll give you call when she is ready to go home.” That was fine, but I thought something was up.
I went about my routine and went to my meeting that day. In conversation, something came up about pets. One lady said, “I called the Vet’s office today to make an appointment. I don’t know what was going on but there was a lot of noise.” She questioned the staff and was told there was a kitten there for a procedure that woke up like a wild lion. They had to give her more medication to sedate her. Uh-oh. I said, “That’s what was going on! That was my kitten, Pebbles!” It wasn’t long before I got the call. Pebs was just fine when we got there to pick her up. You never would have known there had been any trouble. I had expected it from Rocksy but not Pebbles.
Pebbles had a busy day. She got a name and she got “fixed.” We kept her in a cage for a day or two so she wouldn’t bust her stitches. Rocksy was able to let Pebbles nurse and tended to her little one with great motherly care.
Something else happened at that time, too. Pebbles kind of liked being in the garage. Hmmm. I wondered how that would work out!
