Ferby eventually came out--they always do. I noticed what was left of his swollen man parts, with some stitches poking out. That looked about right, but then I saw his belly was shaved and had a surgical incision, just like the kind a female cat gets during spaying. What th'!?!
Appalling thoughts thrashed my brain. Is the vet so incompetent that he tried to spay this male cat, then looked inside and said, "oops" and carried on in the right place? I've had major abdominal surgery a couple of times and it's no fun. It HURTS, even with the pain remedies we privileged humans receive. They don't give ANYTHING to cats. If this kitty had unnecessary surgery due to the error of a veterinarian or one of his assistants, why, why, I was livid, I tell you! LIVID! If I'd known of this condition in the first place, I'd have handled him more gently when I put him in the travel crate! No wonder he made so much noise on the way home! Sputter, spit, rant!
I adopted a calm civility when I called the vet the next day. I had it all figured out. If they 'fessed up to their scandalous error, I would forgive them and not bad-mouth them to the rest of the community, but I would also take my cats to Dr. Brown in the future. So there!
"What happened?" I asked the technician who answered the phone. She replied, "He had what we call cryptorchidism, which means one of his testicles wasn't where it was supposed to be. We had to open his abdomen to find it. It was right where they usually are, though, so we found it the first place we looked and had to make only the one incision." Sweet lord on a moped! You mean it could have been worse? Yeah, but it wasn't. I was grateful to have been forced to postpone this call until I could be gracious about it, and I was. You'd have been so proud of me. "OK, then, I appreciate the information. Thanks for your help." The end.
Ferby's mighty needy and doesn't recognize the dangers of being under foot in the kitchen. He has that distressed habit of some cats who were removed from their mothers too soon--wants to nurse and so pumps and slobbers all over the sleeves of my t-shirt. He also has diarrhea, which is worrisome; something I'm keeping an eye on and treating with cold laser on the appropriate acu-points. I think he'll get beyond all that as he grows up and settles down in the next few weeks.
While he does, he's an enthusiastic little fellow who hangs out in my office. When the mood strikes him, he climbs up on the desk and stomps on the keyboard. I need a keyboard fence to keep him out, or maybe . . .
. . . an internet search leads me to PawSense, an amusing little piece of software that, sadly, doesn't run on Macintosh.