We found an absolutely adorable orange and white male kitty around 5:30 am on New Year's Eve. After about a week and a half, no one claimed him and he was getting along great with Oswald and Ichabod, so we considered him ours. We named him Vincent and set up to have him declawed yesterday. (This was primarily for our older pets' safety; Oswald liked poking him with his nose and Ichabod would chase him around late at night.)
Everything went fine with the declawing itself, but he unfortunately had an allergic reaction while he recovered in the vet's. He died last night less than an hour out of surgery. Boyfriend (who spoke to our vet's office both times) said his doctor was really broken up when she called back to give him the news. We're going to have him cremated.
I feel a little guilty about it because I'm really opposed to declawing cats. (I wouldn't have gone along with it if I thought Oz and Ick could have been trusted to not get him riled up.)
This sucks.
