Post 1754: “We gotta do it, Andy! We gotta do it!”


Remember this Andy from yesterday? Defiant? Confident? Full of cattitude? Well, what follows is, um, pathetic, heart-wrenching, tragic, maybe semi-legal in Catatonia, where all cats come from: Medicine Time!

Good grief! Such drama! What could be the cause of such terror?


Well…a wet paper towel that I’ll use to wipe dribbled medicine from Andy’s mouth and face and the syringe with the dose of blood pressure medicine. Pretty scary, I’ll say!


There is some resistance before I get Andy wrapped up in a towel. (Notice all the kitty hair on the rug? My vacuum cleaner – yes, the fabled Dyson for pets, though I’m not getting paid to mention it – is starting to give up the ghost trying to keep up with shedding season.)


I need three hands to give the medicine and take a photo, so this is what I see moments before I stick the syringe into Andy’s mouth and squirt the medicine – as much as I can – into the kitty. There’s a trick to it, but the kitty burrito approach immobilizes the kitty boy’s  “Holy Terror from the Deepest Regions of Hell” claws.

I managed to get virtually the whole dose down Andy today. Some days, as much as a third of it dribbles down the side of his face when his “Kitty Lips Sealed Tighter than a Deep Sea Submersible at the Bottom of the Marianas Trench” resist the medicine.

“We gotta do it, Andy! We gotta do it!”