We took our cat, Sugar, to the vet the other day because he was obviously sick. I'll spare you the details.
After a full set of blood panels and other tests that I correctly suspected were going to have a major impact on my checking account balance, the conclusion was:
"Sugar is in very good overall health but something is bothering him and we're unable to pinpoint a specific cause." (I paid hundreds of dollars for this?)
The vet sent us home with a couple of syringes, some liquids to fill the syringes with and a bottle of pills. No doubt the word DANGER that had previously been marked in bold letters on the top of Sugar's health history card had caught the vet's eye and he had elected not to stick the cat himself. Sugar has shredded as many veterinarian arms as he has scratching posts.
So home we went with all of our medicines.
Have you ever try calling here kitty kitty while you are holding a syringe in your hand? Give it a try if you ever want to get a good look at the back end of your cat.
As for the pills... I buried a pill in a ball of cream cheese and offered it to Sugar. In my sweetest cutsie voice I said "This is just for you pretty kitty."
After fixing me with a long, suspicious, narrow eyed stare, Sugar cautiously sniffed at the cheese. Just about the time I thought my finger would cramp up, Sugar swallowed the entire creamy blob - and then spit the pill back out. This cat could give Houdini a run for his money.
So now how am I going to pill this cat?
