Yesterday, we took Mr Fuzzypants into the vet
for a little "nip and tuck". He got a certificate
to make him officially "altered". Lucky boy.
Being the fuzz brain that he is, he bounced back
immediately, and was completely back to his naughty
ways by dinnertime.
The Tank, being the fuzz brain he is, is not pleased.
He seems to believe that the kitten we brought
home from the vet, is not the one we brought in.
Oh, the hissing, the spitting, the hitting, the growling.
Yes, there is the vet stink, and the drug miasma,
and he's been altered, but The Tank is seriously,
SERIOUSLY displeased.
Mr Fuzzypants doesn't seem to realize he's different,
sure he's licking his crotch a lot, and that area is a sore,
but he's still Mr Fuzzypants. When The Tank greets
him like an unwanted stranger, he just sits down,
tilts his head, and looks confused.
If Mr F had a wallet, he'd totally pull this photo out and
say, "Dude! Look, it's us! We're friends!"