So Brigid is on flagyl for an intestinal infection. Twice a day she faces the trauma of the horrid pill. I’m not certain if it’s more traumatizing for her or me. It goes like this. The human gets the pill bottle and opens it. The cat is not stupid. She knows what is coming and runs off, seeking a safe hideout. The human puts the pill on the piller and follows the spooked kitty. The chase goes through the living room, the kitchen, down the hall, and into the ferrets’ room. Safety in numbers? This is where Brigid makes her mistake. The human can close the door, thus blocking her retreat. Once the complaining cat is removed from behind the large ferret cage, the actual pilling process begins.
Brigid meows loudly, with indignation at the rude treatment. I said No pill! What part of no don’tyou understand? The human grabs the cat behind the head and pries open the mouth while the cat attempts to back out of the hold, meowing pathetically. You’d think I was trying to poison her. The meows are the downfall. While she opens her mouth to yell, pop! In goes the pill. Now I have hold her mouth shut until she swallows. Yesterday’s adventure in pilling taught me that the cat takes perverse pleasure in spitting out the pill. The poor, abused cat swallows, then meows loudly as she runs from the room to hide under my bed.
Then commences the cold shoulder. Kitten remains under the bed, telling the world of her woes. The human attempts a bribe to placate the cat. Brigid accepts the yummy treat but continues to glare at the human attempting to pet her. An hour later she comes out. Still glaring.
Brigid has ways to make her displeasure known. Drama kitty!