The pink stuff—and the lessons learned from swallowing liquified antibiotics and all things distasteful but useful—was so last week. I’ve now moved on to pills, you see.
Today, I’ve been working on different methods of how to get my cat to take her new form of medicine. Capsules to be specific. But they probably look more like horse pills to my little, eight-pound furry friend (if she even knows what that means in animal code).
So far, I’ve tried the whole pry-the-mouth-open-and-pop-the-pill-inside-and-clamp-the-mouth-shut-while-massaging-the-throat technique. Doesn’t work. The capsule gets spit out each time and ends up being a soggy, broken-up, powdery mess. Great. There goes 71 cents in medical costs down the drain. Literally!
Then, I decided to move on to the stir-the-capsule-contents-into-something-yummy-and-smelly technique. I pried open a fresh can of tuna and a giant whiff of fishy-ness filled the air. Someone came a’ running. But after about three bites, her Spidey senses kicked in, and she uncovered my secret mission. Guess it's really true that a cat is nobody’s fool.
Now, I have one last trick up my sleeve. Pill pockets. They were recommended to me by a dog lover. And since they work for this owner's finicky poodle, I’m hoping they’ll work for my particular cat as well.
As of yet, no spiritual analogies are coming to mind at this pit stop on the medicinal path to wellness. So I have nothing to leave you with that will change your life for today.
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