How bad is that, really?

Somethings will always be funny to me, no matter how bad I feel for laughing. Boris Katinov, my new kitty got neutered today. Needless to say he didn't have a very good day.

He's always been a little weird about his balls (what boy isn't?)--& by that I mean I swear he used to put them on me on purpose: sitting next to me on the couch? he'd back up his butt, will the tail up, of course. Standing next to me? He'd find a way to lean them against me. It always squicked me out a little. But now I can tell you that having fuzzy cat balls pressed against your leg is infinitely less horrifying than having shaved cat balls pressed against your leg.

So, to re-cap Boris' no good, very bad day: shaved balls--check. Testicles removed--check. Locked in the bathroom--ok, well, I tried because he isn't supposed to run or jump or play for 10 days (is this vet's office used to neutering kitty-senior citizens?). But after I found him stuck wedged between the baby-gates he'd climbed & stuck his upper body while howling I decided that attempting to escape the bathroom was a lot more vigorous than just his normal crazy-play-time shenanigans (also, my bathroom door only latches shut if you lean against it from the inside, so it was baby-gates or nothing).

On top of everything else he has to wear a cone on his head so he can't lick his shaved balls or leg (kitty IV site). So he has no peripheral vision & less coordination. Also, he really pissed Richard Parker (the older & bigger kitty) before he left, so she's been stalking him & jumping on him. & not only can he not get away fast, but he can't even see it coming. Add that to the indignity of trying to eat & drink while wearing even the soft cone & I've pretty much not stopped laughing since I brought Boris home from the vet