The cat’s meow: Part II

Part II: Administering meds

I’ve done a lot of challenging things in my life. Graduate school. Writing two novels. Potty training my kids. But none of these have even come close to giving a cat a pill.

After the amazingly fun visit to the vet (as discussed yesterday), I learned that my cat had an infection. With a straight face the vet told me I needed to give her a pill twice a day in addition to a syringe filled with liquid, also twice a day. For reals.

I laughed. I asked him if he was serious. He was confused. He said he was serious. I laughed again, this time with an edge of hysteria.

You see, my cat will freak out if you pet her more than exactly 7 seconds. She will refuse to use a new cat condo if she doesn’t like the look of it. She likes her life a certain way. Getting force fed pills doesn’t groove with that “certain way.”

I told the vet I would try. My famous last words: “I mean, between my husband and me, we can handle an 8-pound cat, right?”

The first challenge was getting her into the bathroom so she couldn’t escape. This took me 30 minutes. I ran up and down stairs, in and out of rooms. She was fast, faster than me. I got her into the bathroom once, but she escaped. I succeeded on my second attempt. I was red, out of breath, and thoroughly pissed.

It was go time. I held her down. My husband tried to shove the pill in her mouth. He got it in there. She spit it out. He got it in there again. She spit it out again. We did this dance of madness FIVE TIMES, people. Finally the pill didn’t come back out. For all I know she was hiding it under her tongue to be spat out later. But at that point I was too focused on getting the liquid meds into her to care.

So then my husband tried to shove the syringe into her mouth. He couldn’t get it in there. I told him to be more forceful. Again, he failed.

“Give me that!” I snarled, having turned into a sweaty, red-faced, cat-hating demon. I got that syringe into her mouth, all right. The deed was done.

So in all, it took 45 minutes. One dose down, 19 more to go.

I called the vet. I was close to hysterics. “I can’t do this!” I cried. “Please, for the love of everything holy, isn’t there anything else I can do?!?”

It turns out the vet could have given her a single injection. No more pills. No more syringes. I got her back into the office within half an hour. I successfully helped treat the cat, but at what price? AT WHAT PRICE?!?

Image from Web MD.

  1. Kerri

    July 19th, 2012 at 11:26 pm

    That brings back memories for sure! I’ve been there before! I’m just glad my cat was declawed (front and back from a previous owner not me!).

  2. Meredith

    July 20th, 2012 at 9:22 am

    Declawed in the front AND back?!? Wow! I didn’t know they did that. Thanks for the comment!

  3. Amy

    July 26th, 2012 at 10:12 pm

    Sounds just like trying to give Aidan medicine. And I don’t know WHERE he gets that from, given that his mama couldn’t swallow a pill until she was 30 years old…

  4. Meredith

    July 27th, 2012 at 10:02 am

    I didn’t know you learned how to swallow a pill. Look at you! Congrats!

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