I love my cats - until I have to give them medication.
I think that the horror of having to give a cat a pill must be God's way of saying that we should not domesticate animals. Well, cats at least. With dogs, you can stick the pill in a glob of peanut butter, and down it goes, with the pup begging for more.
When the appointed time comes around, I start steeling myself like King Leonidas in "300" facing Xerxes and his legions of thousands.
I approach.
"Nice kitty!"
Kitty, who 5 minutes ago was lounging peacefully in my lap, looks at me with suspicious eyes and is poised to either run or fight.
"Good kitty.." I say, hopefully.
I grab.
All at once every muscle in the cat's body is engaged and while limbs try to kick me, the torso twists and writhes in a backwards motion to try to get away. The suspicious eyes have now turned murderous.
Then there is me, at least 10 times bigger than my opponent, struggling desperately to control his body while simultaneously trying to pry his mouth open.
Pill is shoved in. Mouth is clamped shut. There is a moment of silence and stillness, and then all at once..."P-toooie!" the pill is projected out of the mouth and lands on the carpet. Furious squirming ensues. I swear loudly.
We go through this 3 or 4 times before the pill goes down, covered in pet saliva and carpet fibers.
I let the cat go. He moves to the opposite side of the room and glares at me. I glare back.
5 minutes later he is back on my lap, rubbing me with his chin. Peace returns to the land...at least for another 12 hours.
