It’s been three attempts now of trying to get Cal to take two pills and switch to wet (diet) food in order to treat his asthma. That’s six pills and half a can.
That means I’ve accidentally eaten about half an antibiotic, more than a few fingertips worth of cat food, and almost gave Taylor his insulin twice when I couldn’t remember if I’d already (just) given him a shot. Cal is so depressed after we wrestle to get the pills into him (the antibiotic is big and I use a piller; the asthma pill is small and I have to get him to open his mouth in anger so I can toss it in) that he won’t eat his food. The pills are supposed to be increasing his appetite, so I don’t know what’s going on, other than he might have overheard the vet tell me that Cal now weighs twenty pounds, and “all that extra weight” around his chest isn’t helping his wheezing.
But he hasn’t wheezed in two days. He’s also barely eaten. His mood is exactly the same; no personality change. But if he doesn’t start eating soon, I’m going to be very worried. Tomorrow morning I’ll try the pills after I’ve fed him, which probably means I’ll be adding “washing cat-puke covered clothes” to my to-do list.
So, yes. If you’re still figuring out my Sexy Quotient, that’s one cat with asthma and a weight problem, plus one cat with diabetes and arthritis, multiplied by four different medications administered twice a day, divided by one sharps container for used syringes, to the power of dork plus infinity. Squared.