Cat Daddy and I don’t seem to be getting any better at our cat pilling technique. And now we’re having to do it 3 times a day instead of twice.
We cannot help but feel rather inadequate, as the two of us ought to be more than capable of handling a 3.5kg cat. However, we take some comfort in the fact that we’re not alone, and that this is a problem that dates back thousands of years. This Greco-Roman guy didn’t seem to be having much luck with his cat, either, and I feel his pain:
Louis Catorze has become an expert at spitting pills out and, once spat out, they somehow lose their rigidity and disintegrate into powder when you pick them up to try again. He also very nearly foxed the vet the other day by hiding the pill in the corner of his mouth between his inner cheek and his back teeth, just like school kids do when you ask them if they are chewing gum in class.
And, as well as the physical challenge, we also have the logistical complexity of trying to fit 3 evenly-spaced doses into a working day when our hours just don’t synchronise. Cat Daddy and I wake up and go to bed 2 hours apart because of our disparate working hours, so our routine currently looks like this:
Pill 1 at 6am (for which I have to wake Cat Daddy to help me, and he goes back to bed afterwards)
Pill 2 at 6pm, when we both get home
Pill 3 at midnight, when Cat Daddy is about to go to bed (for which he has to wake me for help)
It’s not quite uniform spacing, but it’ll have to do. Obviously if either of us could pill Catorze alone, the enforced togetherness would not be necessary, but, sadly, we can’t.
Nobody said Le Roi would be easy. In fact, the rescue from where we got him warned us of exactly the opposite …