My cat has been sick. She’s got medications for it and has been doing so much better lately. In the midst of all these tragedies and all this pain, these little miracles help me hope.
My cat, the queen of the laundry mountain
[Pictured: A brown and white cat with blue eyes lays on top of a pile of clean laundry on a bed.
But I am worrier. It will take a lot of personal work to tame that part of me. And amongst the medications, the vet wanted me to add a supplement to help her heal. So I got it. I got a liquid form because that has been easier than the wrestling match of trying to get a creature with opinions and claws to take a pill.
I looked up for the 100th or 1000th time about giving cats meds and found a few places rgat recommended putting it in food on their front paws for them to clean off. Sure. I’ll see what her thoughts are about that.
I get the stuff and let her smell it. She takes a lick and promptly runs away, tongue flapping to get that shit out of her mouth (side note: not only do they have opinions, cats can produce an impressive amount of drool in response to their meds). I pursued and persevered, getting the supplement on her paws and leaving her too it.
I expected immediate paw licking. But she had other ideas. Such as walking around the room and laying down on my pillow and doing that otherwise adorable paw tuck right where I sleep.
I didn’t care. Sick kitty > pillow I have to clean. What I did care about was that she wasn’t taking her meds. I watched her, in definitely casual way and not at all weird and helicopter parent-y. She continued laying. I gave up defeated. I had fucked it up again and now I had to figure out how the fuck I was going to use the dropper to dose her.
I heard a noise and looked back, expecting some new float in my life’s current parade of horribles. But it was just my kitty, licking her paws, taking her meds.
Breathe. She's got her own timing for this, and I got to learn to give myself some space.