I knew that adopting a kitten would a big undertaking. Still, who knew there’d be quite so many elements involved in getting this little fluffball’s paperwork in order?
To fill you in, this week I finally caved to my housemate’s overwhelming enthusiasm for having a cat, on the condition that he ultimately be the one responsible for it. As luck would have it, though, Evan was struck down with a nasty flu yesterday, just after we picked up Puffin, leaving me to deal with chasing up all manner of appointments and supplies.
Puffin – a handsome bicolour boy – is basically an adolescent who was taken in by a cat rescue centre as a small kitten. Turns out he’s bang on due for ‘the operation’, and I don’t know the first thing about pet desexing. Bayside council has informed me that it’s mandatory to have cats desexed before they can be registered, which is yet another thing to be done.
Right, then. I’m going to have to find us a vet here in Brighton. Veterinary clinics are something I’ve never shopped around for before – what does one look for in a vet? I’m guessing the criteria is similar to what you’d look for in a doctor: professional manner, attentiveness to the patient’s needs, and so on. I guess I’m also looking for proximity to where we live, just in case our new tenant should require emergency vet services at some point.
What all this adds up to is essentially me taking responsibility for Puffin – precisely what I said I wouldn’t do, not that Evan is really to blame. I sense that I’m starting to actually care about Puffin’s health and wellbeing, a first in my limited experience of relating to non-human animals. Surprisingly, I kind of like it.
Maybe this is what Evan was on about when he said that you can be mates with a cat. I never had any pets growing up and have always lived in the inner city, so I haven’t been exposed to too many opportunities to befriend animals. Bring it on, I suppose.