I Want to Speak Cat

One of my ten-year-old cats needs medication every other day. It's a steroid that helps with his allergies, but has subsequently made him stronger and stronger until each of the usual pill-giving techniques has failed.

(He's never been the type of cat that we can trick him by giving a pill in cheese or his food or with a treat--he just doesn't eat them then.)

It started with simply sticking him between my legs, popping open his mouth, and stuffing the pill down his gullet. While this worked for quite awhile, his back legs became strong enough for him to slip from my grip and wriggle himself free.

Next, I had to create a cave by straddling him--as if I had confused him for a mighty stallion--then tipping his head back, and giving him his pill. However, his growing strength heightened his wriggling abilities, and he inevitably freed a paw or two, clawed my hand to ribbons, left me bleeding, and him without his pill.

A blanket was used next, wrapping him up tight as a Christmas package, leaving nothing but his head poking out. But by now, after months of giving him these steroids, the things have strengthened even his jaws and--of all things--his tongue. I'd pop the pill into his mouth and it shot back out, like in a cartoon, as if some tiny creature hid in his mouth with a pill gun. My cat had gotten so good at launching these things that I didn't even have time to clamp his mouth shut. And if he wasn't using his tongue, he used his teeth, biting into me whenever I got my fingers too close to his mouth.

I want to be able to just speak in the off-color meows of his own tongue. I want to tell him that this is what helps him feel better. This is what keeps him from tearing out his hair, from looking like a stray. I want to tell this that I'm doing this out of love, because I want what's best for him. But my throat can't echo his sounds, and my anger bubbles, and my frustration broils, and a grab him by the scruff of his neck, wanting to scream and shout to just take the stupid pill.

His mouth stretches when I hold him by the back of his neck, and his lips are parted just enough for me to push the pill between his docile teeth, then close his mouth and tip his head back, holding it shut until he swallows.

And when he walks away, I feel no happiness, no joy at his consuming the very thing that has made him so healthy, so strong. I feel empty, because I have to do this again and again and again and again...

The Jenkees and Cat Sedation

I Drug My Cat Daily

Until Wednesday, I was not aware that one could give Prozac to their pets. I don't know if it is a different formula than what doctors prescribe for us humans, but it can help level a cat out.

I may have mentioned him in the past, Mr. McTookis, but this cat has been ridiculous from day one. Granted, he IS/WAS a feral cat, and he's so ornery, my wife and I haven't known what to do with him. And it's not that he's peeing on stuff or clawing our couch to shreds--from what I can tell, he hasn't peed anywhere but the litter box--but he attacks our other two cats non-stop. This isn't just the playful tussle either: Tookis stalks them, corners them, boxes them out from coming or going from certain rooms. As his name suggests, he's an asshole. And this is probably my fault for naming him what I did.

So, even though I hate to do it--I think the world is incredibly overmedicated--for my other cats' sake, my wife and I decided that it really is for the best. Of course, if it changes his personality too much (I love that little booger) we'll stop the meds, but for now, he seems to be the same Tookis, he just sleeps a bit more. I've got my eye on him though.

Enough about my cat--which I'm sure you're already thinking--I've got things to do, plenty to do, and will give a full report on Monday, as some of it--to me at least--is quite exciting.

Have a good weekend.

+Voices+

Archive

I know the cat isn't licking its balls, but you just have to imagine... or something.

Literal Flow Chart

I woke up at about 4:30 this morning and put together a flow chart in my head:
Why am I awake? Is there a reason? (If No, go back to sleep.)
Yes.
Was it the cat? (If Yes, go back to sleep.)
No.
Is it raining? (If Yes, go back to sleep.)
No.
Was it the wife making too much noise? (If Yes, go back to sleep.)
No.
Do you have to pee? (If No, go back to sleep.)
Yes.
Is it urgent enough to get out of bed? (If No, go back to sleep.)
Yes.
Then pee, you idiot, and quit thinking about this stupid crap so you can get back to sleep.

Don't ask me why my brain works this way, if I knew, I'd shut it down and actually get a good night's sleep for once. But whatever, I wouldn't be nearly as entertained by my own private Wonderland.

In other, non-peeing, news, there is a new comic. Plus, there should be a review for Hancock up here soon enough. Have yourself a flowing-tastic day.

I Swear... If He Wasn't So Cute...

My cat, that is. The little bugger kept me up a good chunk of the night because he needed to jump into the blinds for NO REAL REASON. Now I'm tired, rather pissed, and thinking that this day is going to last forever, and that I won't get much done on my novel today--especially since I need to finish up my review for The Love Guru.

I hope it's normal to fantasize about humane ways to kill your cat when it keeps you up half the night, which my thoughts then kept me up the other half of the night. I thought about just rubber-banding his legs together, trussing him up like a Christmas turkey and leaving him in the other room, but couldn't think of where I could procure any bands of rubber. It's hard to think of anything more than an immediate solution when you really just want to sleep. In the end, I solved the cat dilemma by throwing my pillow at the stupid thing. I think it freaked the crap out of him enough that he decided not to keep attacking the blinds needlessly.

Arr... the things we do for cats, and the things we don't do TO them.