Operation Pando Pants

Today, Pandora has gone to work with Andy. Today, Pandora is going to be spayed. She is six months old and, because Andy and I are responsible pet owners, we are not going to allow her to contribute to a world where there are way too many cats wanting homes already.

This meant removing any sources of food from her at 6 pm yesterday in her pre-op prep. From 5 pm I was encouraging her to stuff her face, convinced she would die of starvation before she succumbed to the anaesthetic the following day.
'Come on, Pandora,' I said, 'have some dinner.'
'But I don't have dinner until 6.30,' said Pandora. 'I am currently more interested in dragging my string on a stick around the kitchen and getting under your feet. Of course,' she continued, 'if you're offering some of what your cooking now, I may be tempted to eat earlier.'

Chris and Leane were coming for dinner. I was making Moroccan lamb, to be served with a couple of the many aubergines that have now decided to grow in the polytunnel. And apple pie.

'No,' I said. 'You can have your lovely kitten biscuit cat food.' Pandora's taste in food in very eclectic. She likes, amongst other things, any form of fish but especially pilchards in tomato sauce, chicken, potato, toast with either marmalade or Marmite, most types of breakfast cereal, Digestive biscuits and flapjack.

'Why do you want me to have dinner now?' asked Pandora. She'd turned her attention to collecting as many biros as she could find (and in the home of a writer, there are MANY biros), and kicking them under the fridge.
'Er, because, er...' I began, not quite being able to bring myself to tell her the real reason.
'I know why, I know why!' said Phoebe, skipping into the kitchen with glee. (Glee is her pet snail.)
'Hush!' I said.
'Why?' said Pandora.
'Phoebe!' I warned.
'You're going to have an operation!' said Phoebe, and she laughed with Glee which isn't a good idea as it is a well known fact that snails have weak pelvic floor muscles and suffer stress incontinence, which Glee did, all over the kitchen floor.
'Oh good grief,' I said. I didn't need this, not with the aubergines needing salting and all.

'What kind of operation?' said Pandora.
'One to stop you having babies,' I said.

Pandora considered this idea for a moment.
'Will it change my personality? Will I become a 'lesser cat?' ' she asked.
'No on both counts,' I said. 'You will still be a cute and crazy, highly intelligent, biro stealing, flapjack eating Pando Pants. And you will be doing your bit towards preventing the world becoming over-run with excess kittens and puppies.'
'Puppies? I could have puppies?' said Pandora. She looked a little alarmed.
'No, no,' I said hurriedly. 'I just added the puppy mention for all those people who think they should let their dogs have a litter or father a litter because they think it's 'unnatural' or 'unfair' for them not to. I'm wearing my educational hat today.'
'Phew,' said Pandora. Then, 'Is it an invisible hat, then?'

'I've had two kittens,' said Phoebe. 'When I was a stray, before Andy rescued me.'
Pandora looked at Phoebe. Roly-poly, humpty-dumpty Phoebe.
'Will I get fat like Phoebe?' asked Pandora. She paused by the oven to admire her lithe kitten figure in the glass door.
'No,' I said. 'That's another myth. Phoebe is podgy because she eats too much and she's getting old and can't exercise very well.'
'That's okay then,' said Pandora. 'I'll stuff my face now then, shall I?'

So at 6 pm the food was removed. All the food, including the bowls belonging to Phoebe and Tybalt. And this morning I was met with three cats who miaowed and mewed in a very plaintive way, that they were all starving to death and could they have a really big breakfast NOW?

And Pandora was put in a cat basket to go to work with Andy, and Tybalt and Phoebe have since spent the entire morning looking for her, but pausing periodically to have some breakfast, then more breakfast and then elevenses in case rations are withdrawn again.

It's very odd not having Pandora on my lap as I write. Tybalt will sit on my lap for a few minutes only, because the tap-tap-tap on my fingers on the keyboard affects his sensibilities; Phoebe would sit on my lap for eight hours at a stretch but this causes my legs to go dead and also her bulk makes it difficult for me to reach the keyboard.

I'm waiting for the call from Andy to tell me Pandora is okay.