I’m a dog person. If I ever get a pet of my own, aside from the ones I had in childhood, it will likely be a dog. But, my roommate has two cats – ginger kitties, to be exact. And they are quite the interesting breed. Although I’m a dog person, I’m quite fond of these ginger kitties and their odd and vivacious personalities. They were both also quite fond of me…until recently.
The boy ginger kitty, that also happens to be the younger of the two, was recently sick. My roommate took him to the vet, who gave her medicine to give to him a couple times a day for a couple weeks. When you have something like a child, or a stubborn cat, giving that being anything they don’t want a couple times a day for a couple weeks is quite a difficult and frustrating process. Since the sick cat isn’t mine, I didn’t have to partake in the process – not until my roommate went on vacation and left for a few days.
The medicine that this boy ginger kitty had to take was in liquid form and had to be fed to him with a syringe. This seemed simple enough. I figured when he was just sitting there, I’d put the syringe on the side of his mouth, he’d open up a bit, and I’d give him the medicine. It seemed easy enough. You think it’d be easy enough.
The first time, this boy ginger kitty was fairly unsuspecting of what was about to happen. However, after I shot the medicine into his mouth, all hell broke loose. All hell.
He tried to run away as quickly as possible, like a cartoon character trying to get away so fast that it’s running in place. His clumsy demeanor made him crash a little into the chair and whatever else was in his way. Then he hid under the bed where he couldn’t be reached.
But, he still needed his medicine.
For the coming days, twice a day, I had to retrieve him from under the bed or under the couch or under the chair or wherever he was hiding. But, I did not try this without some sort of protection. My protection…an every day oven mitt.
I knew the minute I approached him each time that he’d be trying to maneuver his way around me and get away, so I had to catch him quickly…and the oven mitt would save me from those impending scratches and bites. Still, the process of catching him did not always go smoothly, and so I’d find myself for seconds or minutes, and once or twice even close to a half hour, chasing him around the apartment with an oven mitt and a syringe. Yes, it was as ridiculous a scene as it sounds.
Over a month later, that cat still scurries away whenever he sees me coming, even though the medicine feeding days are over. He’s warmed back up to me a bit and may even come as close to me now as to sit in the same room with me, but I’m sure he still sees me as that person who, may at any time, pull out the oven mitt and syringe and start chasing him around the apartment.
