I know I put a happy face on the boys’ behavior, but they can be little poops when they want to be.
Dougy is a terrible furniture scratcher, though I have several scratching posts stationed throughout the apartment, including next to the furniture he likes to assault.
Yeah. “Cute”, Dougy. “Cute”!
But what about Andy? Sweet, kitten-faced Andy? Andy, named after the Apostle Andrew, the patron saint of Scotland? The sick little kittycat?
Well, for a cat with a heart murmur and high blood pressure that’s treated with daily doses of medicine, he can run and hide like hell. Bad boy! To think my after-medicating ritual is to whisper “What a good boy!” over and over in his ear while I gently massage his shoulders! Well, there were no kitty treats dispensed yesterday, let me tell you!
All week, each time I finally caught him got later and later. He even managed to go all day yesterday without his medicine. Come to think of it, it’s 7:23, I don’t know where the little rascal is, and he still hasn’t had his medicine.
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UPDATE: Andy got his dose of medicine at approximately 7:50 AM. He fell for the old “Want to play with wand toys, boys?” strategy. He took it like a big boy, so I stroked his ears, told him he was a good boy, and massaged his shoulders. He got kitty treats today!