My cat is in heat. She is a purebred Flame Tipped Himalayan. She has a fancy-schmancy purebred name (Princess Penny Copper Buttons). We call her Penny. We love her because she is a snotty-nosed brat, which is exactly what cats should be. I love her because she climbs under the covers and snuggles my warm feet in the night. And when I get hot and I kick her sorry cat butt out of my bed, she still purrs for me in the morning.
In other words, I don't care about her pedigree. I don't have her because of what she is. I have her because I have a soft spot for long-haired cats. And because she needed a new home. And because cat food is cheaper than therapy and living without animals in the house makes me a crazy lady.
I am not interested in breeding her. I am not interested in kittens. I am not interested in adding to the cat population of Sadieville. I have a precious cat who I love and I don't want any more.
I believe in spaying and neutering. I believe in "fixing" animals. But, I have a hard time getting around to it. I had a female cat once before and I had her fixed while she was in heat. They charge you extra for that, you know. Something about a swelled uterus, harder to do, you're desperate and we charge you anything.
I did it, though, and I did it happily. Because we had a male cat, too and they were trying to claw through my bathroom door to get to each other. While yowling. In the middle of the night.
This time, Penny's the only cat in the house. There is no yowling, so we're going to wait this out. In fact, the only way that I know she is in heat, is her manic desire to get out of my house. Every time a door opens, even an interior door, there's Penny, "What's this. Brynna's room. Any male cats in here? Hmm? Hmm? No. Fine. I'm leaving."
While this is fairly amusing when going to the bathroom or wandering downstairs for laundry duty, it is less than amusing when actually opening the door to the outside world. The cat is so intent on sprinting outside that she risks life and limb to run between our legs, vault off our shoulders or squeeze through a rapidly shutting door that she often gets the door slammed in her face or um... abdomen.
Fortunately, she is an indoor cat and once outside, in the free open air, becomes a little disoriented. Typically, she runs to the end of the deck, vaults over my flower bed and runs for cover under the pine tree. There, she cowers, afraid of open oxygen.
Ten minutes later, I, covered in pine needles and scratched all over, emerge from the tree holding the cat who is both mad and howling and pleased to be taken back to the life she knows and trusts. Until the next time I open the door when the fun begins all over again.
Well, crap. I just took a short break from writing to google and find out how long Precious Penny Pain the Buttons would be in heat. Turns out that it'll only be a couple more days, BUT, cats will continue to go into heat EVERY OTHER WEEK until they get pregnant or get spayed.
So, I guess I'm researching spaying now. Anyway, Sorry Bob. You were right.