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Bagging the Cat
My cat, Chumley, is sick, and probably on medication for the duration. If he has irritable bowel disease, he'll probably need prednisone every other day for the rest of his life. If he has lymphoma, he'll need that every day for the rest of his life, but it won't be very long, in that case. In the mean time, though, while I don't know what he has, he has responded brilliantly to the prednisone.
Chumley is a big, fat, black and white cat that looks a bit like a cow. He has a purr that you can hear from across the room, and he seems to purr the live long day. If I sit on my bed, he often comes and sits down beside me, and purrs and purrs and purrs. His purr has this lovely melodic trill in it. It's just delightful. He's a wonderful cat ...
Until I have to stick a pill down his throat. At that point, he reverts to his former incarnation as Monster. When I first adopted him, he was an aggressive beast. He was a stray, and I don't know what he'd been dealing with before he hid under my truck one November night. For years, I had cat scratch marks all over my hands and forearms. Then came The Taming of the Chumley -- but that's a story for another day. He wasn't even called Chumley, back then. At that point, he was most often called Monster, though he had any number of other names attached to him.
Chummers is stupid, but he's also fast. It takes two hands to pill him, one to force his mouth open, the other to drop the pill in. This does not leave a third -- and fourth! -- hand to keep his paw from slashing out. Even right after he's had his claws clipped, he usually draws blood. He gave me a nasty puncture wound a couple of weeks ago, and I had to go and get a tetanus shot. I hadn't had a tetanus shot for 11 years -- not since the last time Chumley had punctured me with his claws. Horrid beast.
You know that thing about wrapping cats in towels? I can't do it. In fact, I've never yet met someone who wasn't a vet by trade who could make it work. I have gotten tired, though, of getting new scratches every morning and every evening. For some reason, there don't seem to be cat restraint systems on the market. Little straight jackets for cats. I'd think that they'd sell like hot cakes.
What I've resorted to is a pair of jeans. I stuff Chumley down one of the legs. He doesn't like it much, but once I've got his head and shoulders in, he can't turn around. Then I ruck the leg up until his head is showing, and there are folds of denim around his neck. If I'm fast enough, his front paws will be caught up in the folds for long enough that I can force his mouth open, pop the pill in, and close his mouth again. He doesn't claw at me while I'm holding his mouth shut, even though he does growl. Oh, and purr. Yes, this cat growls and purrs at the same time.
So far, this has worked pretty well. I'm thinking of refining it a little. Like, buying a used pair of jeans instead of using ones I actually wear. I'm also thinking that one of those stuff-sack drawstring closures might be just the thing. You can draw them to any tightness, fast, but they don't get tighter or looser once you've set it. That might make it possible to give him that awful medicine that's comes in a dropper. His reaction to having things _squirted_ down his throat is squared and cubed compared to his anger at having them shoved down his throat.
He doesn't hold a grudge. I think maybe he's too stupid to. He struggles out of the jeans leg, and then comes over to me, flops down, and starts purring musically. He really is a wonderful cat.
Chumley is a big, fat, black and white cat that looks a bit like a cow. He has a purr that you can hear from across the room, and he seems to purr the live long day. If I sit on my bed, he often comes and sits down beside me, and purrs and purrs and purrs. His purr has this lovely melodic trill in it. It's just delightful. He's a wonderful cat ...
Until I have to stick a pill down his throat. At that point, he reverts to his former incarnation as Monster. When I first adopted him, he was an aggressive beast. He was a stray, and I don't know what he'd been dealing with before he hid under my truck one November night. For years, I had cat scratch marks all over my hands and forearms. Then came The Taming of the Chumley -- but that's a story for another day. He wasn't even called Chumley, back then. At that point, he was most often called Monster, though he had any number of other names attached to him.
Chummers is stupid, but he's also fast. It takes two hands to pill him, one to force his mouth open, the other to drop the pill in. This does not leave a third -- and fourth! -- hand to keep his paw from slashing out. Even right after he's had his claws clipped, he usually draws blood. He gave me a nasty puncture wound a couple of weeks ago, and I had to go and get a tetanus shot. I hadn't had a tetanus shot for 11 years -- not since the last time Chumley had punctured me with his claws. Horrid beast.
You know that thing about wrapping cats in towels? I can't do it. In fact, I've never yet met someone who wasn't a vet by trade who could make it work. I have gotten tired, though, of getting new scratches every morning and every evening. For some reason, there don't seem to be cat restraint systems on the market. Little straight jackets for cats. I'd think that they'd sell like hot cakes.
What I've resorted to is a pair of jeans. I stuff Chumley down one of the legs. He doesn't like it much, but once I've got his head and shoulders in, he can't turn around. Then I ruck the leg up until his head is showing, and there are folds of denim around his neck. If I'm fast enough, his front paws will be caught up in the folds for long enough that I can force his mouth open, pop the pill in, and close his mouth again. He doesn't claw at me while I'm holding his mouth shut, even though he does growl. Oh, and purr. Yes, this cat growls and purrs at the same time.
So far, this has worked pretty well. I'm thinking of refining it a little. Like, buying a used pair of jeans instead of using ones I actually wear. I'm also thinking that one of those stuff-sack drawstring closures might be just the thing. You can draw them to any tightness, fast, but they don't get tighter or looser once you've set it. That might make it possible to give him that awful medicine that's comes in a dropper. His reaction to having things _squirted_ down his throat is squared and cubed compared to his anger at having them shoved down his throat.
He doesn't hold a grudge. I think maybe he's too stupid to. He struggles out of the jeans leg, and then comes over to me, flops down, and starts purring musically. He really is a wonderful cat.