tube tied

I took Sophie to get spayed this morning. She wasn’t in heat or anything, but she was getting kind of slutty. Always on her back writhing around. Purring and spreading her legs when you scratched her belly. She was showing all the signs, even if she was still delicate. Just an innocent kitty under a soft gray fur with black stripes like blurs running down the side. Mewing at the window staring out onto the neighbors backyard. Maybe she wasn’t a slut, but she was definitely flirty.

On the way to the vet this morning, at a godless hour covered in a huge puffy coat, I carried her close to my face and stuck my finger in the cage holes and told her everything would be ok. She shivered in a corner, ears jetting back and eyes wide, whiskers jagged in alarm. Every now and then she explored the bars where my finger wiggled but then would shrink away when a car roared by. When we got to the office and I set her down she fell back into her routine and started slithering on her spine, legs spread apart, aching for some love. I scratched her nose with my index. She purred and looked confused.

I had my hands shoved into in my pockets as I walked home. I wondered if Miles would notice she was gone. When I opened my apartment door I only opened it a crack because I knew he would make a run for it if I opened it all the way. He always does. Even still, he made it out. He ran down the stairs to the hallway door and clawed at the throw rug and sniffed at the radiator. I grabbed him by the skin on his neck and carried him upstairs, frustrated. Then I set him down on the couch and soothed his head for a minute, cooing in his ear.

Later in the afternoon, after he’d been fed and taken a nap, he leapt up onto my desk and pranced around. He batted at my keyboard and nudged my half filled glasses. Then he pawed at my shoulder as he rubbed against my chest. He was lonely. He noticed. I stroked him while he sat on my lap and I typed on my laptop and I told him she would be home soon.