Four Pounds of Murder

  
Kitten is the worst cat ever when it comes to medication. 

Today was flea day. Everyone else is no big deal. Some pettings and you sneakily squeeze the little bottle on their neck and they’re good. 

But Kitten is another story. 

Ian chased her around the porch for ten minutes this afternoon while she caterwauled like she was being skinned alive. The porch, because there’s no where to hide under that can’t be picked up or reached under. 

And then she sulks forever. 

And that’s flea medicine, the easiest medicine she gets. 

When we give her vaccinations, the more towels wrapped around her, the better. She will murder you. 

And pills? The absolute worst. I believe that she can cough them up from her stomach. It’s better since we moved, because we don’t have as many waterbugs. She used to get worms all the time from catching and eating them at or old house. And then of course she’d infect the other cats. 

The first time we were told that we could crush the worm pills and mix them in wet food. Kitten was locked in the bathroom for two days with her plate. We had to let her out because she refused to eat it. 

She’s pretty suspicious. 

The next time we learned that no, that advice was wrong, and you can’t administer them that way. Good to know. But that meant giving her a pill. 

You know the tip to squeeze their cheeks in so they won’t bite because they’ll bite themselves? She doesn’t care. Kitten would chew her own leg off if it meant she didn’t have to be medicated. 

And this is why we try to catch her first to give her a dose of whatever. 

Waffles and Amarillo are cool with shots. Not fans of pills, but they forgive quickly. And flea stuff? No biggie. 

But damn, that Kitten.