Happiest of New Years to you. It is indeed a very new year, and a new world, for our favorite tuxedo girl.
Where we last left Brielle, she was howling and hollering with all the signs of a cat in full, frustrating heat. At the dawn of 2014, our vet team planned to conduct a routine exploratory surgery to ferret out whatever wisps of Brielle’s reproductive system that had been left behind when she was spayed.
But we’d made two foolish assumptions here:
1) There would be only a wisp (or, to get technical, an ovarian remnant) of reproductive tissue to be found. And, more importantly,
2) Brielle had already — albeit incompletely — been spayed.
What silly humans we are.
When our vet team began surgery, they did not find an “ovarian remnant.” They did not find an incompletely spayed cat.
They found a completely intact, never-been-spayed feline.
That’s right: Brielle has been walking around completely unspayed, enduring the emotional and physical upheaval of going into heat every single month, for all her 5ish years on this earth. Given that, it’s absolutely amazing that she’s been as “well-behaved” as she is.
It also bodes brilliantly well for Bri’s future hopes of adoption. A spayed or neutered cat who urinates outside the litter box is worrisome and difficult to adopt, for obvious reasons. But an unspayed kitty who pees where she pleases is entirely normal. You know where I’m going with this: now that she’s been spayed, Brielle’s spotty litter box record is a thing of the past.
And adoption is suddenly looking very, very likely.
I would be lying through my teeth if I said I was 100% elated about this. On a woefully selfish level, I am not.
I have been hopelessly, helplessly smitten with the wonder of Brielle from the moment we first met gazes. But in this past month, our bond has grown beyond measure.
I must provide a bit of back story here. In June of 2013, I lost my office mate and feline soulmate, Webster. We’d been inseparable for four years, and the ache of not having him wrapped around my arm (and my heart) was continuous. Compounding matters, when Webby passed away, his place was quickly taken by a little opportunist named Queen. Although I initially welcomed Queen with open arms, she made it consistently clear: her only interest was hiding behind my computer monitor, then launching out at unexpected moments and biting me very hard.
Tabby’s Place’s wonderful volunteer behaviorist proposed a plan: I would have to build a blockade behind the computer. I began collecting cardboard boxes, and brick by brick the barricade rose. Being a complete and total dork, I couldn’t help but think in terms of the barricades of Les Miserables, and went so far as to put a sparkly Eiffel Tower atop the barricade. I regularly caught myself humming, Beyond the barricade, is there a world you long to see?
Apparently, Brielle’s answer was yes.
While the barricade successfully evicted Queen, Brielle saw it as a welcome mat. Fearlessly, she tucked herself into the tightest space left behind the barricade…and she purred.
From the barricade, it was a short step to my keyboard…and my hands…and my arm. The next thing I new, Brielle was wrapping herself around me like a sleeve of love. I began to cry. I had not realized just how much I’d missed having a feline office-mate who returned my love. As I melted, Bri purred louder. It was a hug from heaven, delivered by one exquisitely empathetic little tuxedo girl.
And all of a sudden, the bonds we had were everlasting.
In all seriousness, I will rejoice when Brielle is adopted. She deserves a home where love will fill every cranny of her soul. She will get it; of this, I’m certain. I will weep. But more than that, my soul will dance.
In the meantime, dear sponsors, it is a deep delight to serve this little wonder with you. Thank you for making Brielle’s happy, healthy life, with all its sweetness and surprises, possible.