OMG. For those of you who are not versed in “instant messenging” speak, that means Oh My God! I recently had to medicate my cat daily for a week. This is a task that is not for the faint of heart.  Of all the aspects about having cats as a pet, this has to be the worst. It makes cleaning the litter box look like a day in the park.

My vet, knowing that trying to “pill” my cat is about as difficult as trying to climb Mt. Everest barefoot and without a guide, decided to prescribe a liquid antibiotic. When presented with the liquid I was told that the cat needed to have it with food, that it tasted bad and that she would need a full 2 mls for each dose.

I thought. “ok, I can do this.” There are five of us in the house, one who interned at a veterinary clinic.  This can’t be that bad. Miss Kitty needed this medication and she would get it.

We were instructed to give her the first dose that evening. Luckily she was still somewhat stoned from the anesthesia she had earlier in the day, so although it was a challenge, she was more docile than usual and basically we medicated her without too much trauma.
The next night, without the benefit of sedatives coursing through her body, we had to give her another dose. This is where the fun begins.

I probably should have had the taken some anti-anxiety meds or at the very least had a glass of wine before attempting to medicate our cat.  As it was, I went about this chore completely sober and this may have been a mistake. Either the cat or I should have had something because by the time she got the last drop of antibiotic the cat was miserable and hating everyone and the kids and I were a jumble of frayed nerves.

On day 2, after we were sure Miss Kitty had eaten, we set about doing the deed. It took three of us to corner the cat in a room, because even on a good day picking up Miss Kitty is never a good idea. She is extremely affectionate, but only on her own terms.  I tried to “cuddle” her against my chest, while someone tried to pry her mouth open and inject the liquid a bit at a time so that she would get it all but not choke. I wish I had been a fly on the wall to see what this looked like. The cat squirmed, hissed and meowed, although this sounded more like a high pitched wail than an actual meow. I could not keep her claws retracted or her paws from swatting at me. Anyone thinking that it cannot really be that difficult to hold a 7lb animal still for a few brief moments, think again.  This adoring creature that curls up on me, the dog and every member of the household and purrs with content and joy on a daily basis became a hissing, screaming, bundle of frenetic energy that fought me as if I was setting her tail on fire.

She managed to escape my grasp and we had to start all over again. For a while we played a game of catch and release, or rather catch and escape. We would get a hold of the cat and she would manage to get away through a combination of claws and wriggling and ferocious hissing. By now I was thinking “forget the wine, I want a martini.”  Eventually, finally, at very long last, after chasing the cat over, under and around the furniture, we came up with a strategy that worked.  I had to basically sit over the cat, not on her but over her, grasping her two front paws firmly together while someone else held the scruff of her neck, at which point my vet-in-training pried open the cats jaws of steel and administered the life-saving meds as my 11 year old jumped up and down in the background screaming.

That was day two. Five more to go.

There has got to be a better way!

If anyone know of one please share your words of wisdom.

Now, where did I put that martini shaker?
Cat-themed gifts, jewelry and home décor at Whales & Friends.