Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke
Today, it was our kitten-spay-surgery-day, and it was a very important and slightly dramatic day for our kitty.
This morning started as usual. She woke up with me and immediately led us downstairs, full of energy and expectation, ready for breakfast. Unfortunately, she did not realize that today came with… restrictions. Because of the surgery, she had not been allowed to eat after 8 p.m. last night.
So while she confidently marched toward her food bowl, we had a different plan.
The moment she entered the room, I gently (but decisively) placed her into the carrier. She looked at me with the kind of betrayal usually reserved for tragic novels. I felt terrible—but we still had to take her to the vet.
Thankfully, my wife had the day off for Presidents’ Day, which made everything easier. She could stay home and pick our kitty up as soon as the clinic called.
After we dropped her off, the waiting began.
I felt worried, but my wife looked even more concerned. She mentioned the paperwork we had to sign before the procedure—the standard forms that politely remind you that even routine surgeries carry risks. Rationally, we knew this was normal. Emotionally, it still made the situation feel heavier.
A couple of hours later, we finally received the call:
the surgery went well.
Relief arrived instantly.
The vet told us she would be ready to go home in a few more hours. Those hours felt long, of course—but I still had things to do. Now I had a clear deadline, so I quickly prepared and went out for my run.
After finishing my run and showering, it was finally time to bring her home.
When we picked her up, she was wearing the classic “cone of shame” and still a bit groggy from the sedatives. She looked mildly offended by the entire situation and will probably hold that opinion for the next few days.
Fortunately, my wife ordered a surgical onesie, which should arrive tomorrow. Once that comes in, our kitty can retire from cone life—something she will deeply appreciate.
For now, we also have to give her medication over the next few days. Luckily, my wife has experience. She used to work at a cat shelter during university, so she has mastered the art of administering pills to cats—quickly and efficiently, ideally before the cat fully understands what just happened.
Her method is simple:
be fast, be calm, and leave the cat slightly confused rather than suspicious.
In the end, the difficult parts are temporary. The long-term benefit—no future discomfort from heat cycles—is permanent.
Our kitty may be annoyed today, slightly dramatic tomorrow, and mildly judgmental for a few days…
But soon enough, she will forget all of this and return to her usual energetic, pouncy self.