Hi, Pill Lady.
2003-08-28
2:59 p.m.

Guess what my cat fucking hates? Pills. They fill him with unmitigated rage.

(I like the word unmitigated.)

This morning, I got up early because I'd had trouble getting him to take his pills last night. He'd eaten one (a capsule contents mixed with wet food) and Absolutely Refused to let me stuff the other one in his mouth. I smashed it into dust and also mixed it with food, but he was not having that shit. Even after I locked him in the bathroom with the dish for an hour and a half. So I gave up and figured tomorrow would be Successful Pill Day. (Mark your calendars! August 28th: Successful Pill Day.)

Except today was not Successful Pill Day. I would go so far as to classify today as Insanely Horrible Pill Failure Day. I was so optimistic about my well-rested pill feeding abilities that I even got ready for work and attempted to give the pill while in work clothing. A half hour later with a million-times gummed and rejected pill smeared chalkily all over my fingers, I was wailing on the dining room floor whilst Maverick was skulking away from me, the crazy pill lady. I made sure to carry on loudly enough that the neighbors could hear. They already know I'm insane. Then I heard some wet food chomping, and TaDa, it was one of the other cats chowing down on his capsule laced wet food (which he'd completely refused, despite Loving It last night.) I think I may have actually *howled* "noooooooooo00ooooo0o00o!"

Ah.

Basically, Lather Rinse Repeat and you have where I'm at right now. He still hasn't injested a pill. He bit the tip of my thumbnail off and peed on my bed, though. Which I, wielder of the pill injecting syringe (one of three that I bought at PetSmart this morning in a crazy attempt to shove pill further back in adamantly pill hating throat), probably deserved. I also bought them a fountain of fresh, gurguling water. Which they are all terrified of. (Of which they are all terrified. Whatever.) I love that 49.99 does not buy me love, but they can bat a cherry tomato around on the floor for hours.

So, we're going back to his least favorite place at 5:30. And I didn't go to work today. Which is insane. My inbox groans with the weight. I am always here alone when something that requires a stay-home comes along. Where was el husband when the water heater blew? Opposite coast. And where is he now, during critical pill shoving down throat time? Opposite coast. I hope his secret other family at least has emergencies when he's with them. It would be lame if he got to skip all the crap on both sides. No crises, only nookie!

Okay, I'm insane. Still no pills, will not get better without pills, will not take pills and does not speak the English with which I attempt to explain the importance of said pills. Dammnable feline.

Sidebar: Holy crap vets are expensive.