He and Dougy both are slaves to their stomachs. Poor Andy! Even though he pretty much knows I’m going to give him medicine before I feed the two of them, he still falls into the trap of following me around so he’s always where I am when I prepare the cat food. Works out just fine: I can easily catch him for his daily dose of Benazepril!
I mentioned the “cat enchilada” method of swaddling a cat in a bath towel to make it easier to give the cat medicine. I meant “cat burrito”, though, honestly, there is not a great deal of difference. “Cat burritos”, I guess, differ in that they don’t need chile verde ladled over them. đ
Andy took his medicine like a big boy this morning, though he almost slipped out of the towel and got away at one point. Stuffing a “cat burrito” seems simple, but does require a bit of practice for consistent results.
After breakfast, the boys follow me over to the television where I watch morning news. Always. I’m as boringly predictable as they when it comes to routines. If they spoke English, we’d probably finish each other’s sentences.
Or talk about how Andy maintains his magnificent tail.
But more likely, he’d tell me to shut up so he could grab some winks on his light stand. Yeah, this is part of his territory, and it is deep inside the Dougy Republic.
The main thing is Andy’s doing fine, thank you!
