In which she wins another day

[zeborah]

Day 1: Boots gobbles the green pill on the assumption that it's the same as one of her normal pale brown palatable pills. (I'm a big fan of palatable pills.)

Day 2: Boots remembers that the green pill is not in fact palatable so I'm forced to do the ordinary pilling thing. (She gobbles the pale brown pill quite happily.)

Day 3: Boots remembers that being pilled is unpleasant so I hide the pill in some of her super nommy goop.

Day 4: Boots remembers that a pill surrounded by super nommy goop is still a pill so I'm forced to do the ordinary pilling thing and now it's sticky so sticks to my finger so this takes multiple tries.

Day 5: I resort to Google, find some videos of remarkably placid cats and the old how to pill a cat joke which I think is more documentary than humour but anyway. I attempt the margarine thing but it sticks to my finger and when I hopefully attempt to let her just nom it she just licks the margarine off it. I get the pill into her half a dozen times and she spits it out half a dozen times (once after holding it cunningly in her mouth for over half a minute until I unlock her catflap, upon which <spit, flee>) and it dissolves into a crumbly mess twice. --I speak by now of the platonic pill. By the time I succeed it's the third pill of the day. Will have to get another repeat from the vet at some point when I know how many to ask for....

Day 6: I plan to mash the pill into her super-nommy glop. But goodness knows what I'll do on days 7-14.


In random earthquake news:
I turned up at choir last night and discovered our normal practice room has been taped off. Hung around for a while half-chatting with the AA greeting folk and half-trying not to get in their way, but no-one else turned up; I seem to have missed a message at some point. On the bus on the way home I listened to another passenger chatting with the bus driver about portaloos and chemical toilets. Post-earthquake smalltalk is from another world.

Comments

[(Anonymous)]

Becky here. Ah, the joys of pilling a cat. J and I both have to do it, otherwise there's a lot of blood splatter everywhere, and it's ours. Mu tolerates it, and isn't happy about it; Phantom just looks confused but doesn't fight it, and Miss Sophie Underfoot goes looking for revenge, usually in the most messy way possible. Sigh. I saw a clever thing that looks like a duffel bag with various velcro closings that the cat goes into, that restrains their legs and claws, and is supposed to help with such trauma times as pilling. There's also a syringe sort of device that is supposed to work, but it looks awful, and I don't dare try it.