Balls.

We have a lot of cats at this house. When Mac comes to visit, with his cats in tow, the Resident Cat number doubles. The Extra Cats from the rest of the block have to step wary, then.

Mac came to town to have Mischief, his newest cat, neutered. Mischief is feeling confused and ball-less, and needs a lot of love, so we have all been cuddling him. Bud, Mac’s Number One cat, was so put out by all the fussing Mischief was getting, that he locked himself in the furnace room for five hours yesterday so he could be loved up when we all found him and exclaimed over him. Don’t tell me cats can’t strategize.

Mac goes to the vet we all go to, Dr. Bob. Dr. Bob is a misanthropist who comes into contact with people as a distasteful part of his job, which is being the best vet in the universe. Seriously. His kennels do have the sick beasties, but if you go through the little side door, you get to the other kennels, which house the animals people couldn’t be bothered to deal with. You know, the 18-year-old cat who needs to have wet food because his teeth are falling out, so his owner took him to Dr. Bob to be euthanized. The mutt with three legs that no one else wanted. Those kinds of animals.

Dr. Bob is caring and competent. He’s also seen a lot of cat testes. You can tell by the way he comments on them. About Mischief’s recently departed sacs? “Just look at these! Wow, they’re great! A very fine pair, indeed.”

Everybody’s an expert on something. I feel privileged that I know a man whose expertise lies in the area of animal genitalia.

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