I find myself feeling the need to have a picture to motivate writing a blog post, but after I found myself crying tears of relief hearing that my little Scooter was fine after getting "fixed up", I pulled out my camera and started looking at all the pictures I have taken of her. In this particular one, I got totally facinated by how pink her little nose and ears and feeties were. You would have thought I was stoned or something (I wasn't) the night I took a close up of her gripping her little toes.
The picture is a little blurry, but you get the idea.
She is totally, completely white, with beautiful blue eyes. She is also totally, completely stone deaf.
Having a deaf kitten in the house has been a little bit of a challenge, as in when she jumps up on something she shouldn't and can't hear me yell "NO!", but it's also been a joy. I've learned to get her attention by stomping on the floor to cause a vibration that makes her look at me. Then I can shake my finger and she's learned that means "NO!" Of course, I still say it, even though she can't hear it.
I watch her facination with things that are moving, that she can't hear. Her eyes convey such trust and pureness, and when she looks at me, I can't help but wonder what is going thru her mind.
Which brings me to my point. Until this morning, this little deaf baby has only seen probably 3 human beings in her short life. Suddenly, her most trusted human has put her in a little black carrier, transported her in a car and deposited her with strangers that begin sticking things in her and putting her back in a cage. All of this in complete silence. The vet says I'm probably taking this a lot harder than she is. By tomorrow after I'm able to bring her home, she'll forget all about it. I hope so. I would hate to think that I've caused a little being so much trauma. Of course, it would be far worse to have allowed a deaf cat to get pregnant and have kittens she wouldn't be able to hear call for her, and would have a huge chance of being deaf themselves.
I expect tonight to have Ringo fussing at me, wondering where she is since they've become fairly regular snuggle buddies.
The one below was made a couple of nights ago.
At least I can talk to him and tell him she'll be home in the morning. And he'll give me the slow blink that I know means he loves me and believes that all will be well.
When I do get little Scooter home. I will do everything I can to reassure her that this is her PERMANENT home, that she is safe, and she is loved.
She can then resume her innocent life in complete silence.