Well, Pickle has had her day at the vets and is now back home zooming around like a lunatic. I caught her quite easily and took her in Thursday evening. She had her operation first thing on Friday morning, and they rang me at 11.30 to say all was well and she was waking up nicely. I was allowed to pick her up any time after 1.30, but because of w**k couldn't get there until nearly 5.00. I paid the bill (ouch!) and the receptionist told me to take a seat. I waited and waited.
After quite a while the receptionist came back and said "They're just trying to get Pickle out of her cage and into her basket". I asked her if they wanted some help, and she said she'd ask. A few minutes later the nurse arrived and asked me through to the consulting room. She went through the post-op checklist with me, but confessed she hadn't been able to put Pickle into her basket. (I had warned them that she is rather wild!)She asked me if Pickle "has always been like that." So I explained her history. "Oh", said the nurse, "Perhaps I ought to have put her back in her own basket while she was still dopey".
Anyway, I offered to put her into the basket myself. The nurse took me through to the cat section of the hospital and there was Pickle sitting up in her cage looking very alert and perky. I was really pleased with the way she responded to me. She obviously recognised me and when I opened her cage she only cowered down at the back and hissed at me. When I grabbed her she made no attempt to bite or scratch me, and she went into her basket with no trouble at all.
She came home and was immediately back to her normal lively self. She's eating well and doing everything a kitten should - apart from being cuddly that is.
