Medicated Cats

It turns out that the stray, who is the sickest cat I've ever met, does not have ASTHMA, which we thought this weekend.  And to which I am still incredulous, because for fuck's sake, what would she be allergic to? 

She has some sort of infection in her lungs, which requires antibiotics.  Okay.

She is also supposed to be getting prednisone 2x daily, which is a steroid I've taken a whole bunch of times because I have asthma.  

I speed all the way to the vet's office to get there by 6pm and pick up the antibiotic.  I beg the vet and he assures me it is a liquid.  

We now have 2 cats on Prozac (when we can forcibly get a pill down Lucy's throat, the raving bitch) and one cat on prednisone pills 2x daily + antibiotic fluid 2x daily.  Lovely.

I am on Weight Watchers and am not supposed to drink wine, and I quit smoking three weeks ago and the Pope is on a business trip.

So I buy some Pill Pockets to sneak the pills into chicken-flavored dough packets to get these goddamn cats their medicine so that everyone can live happily ever after.

The stray, who we've spent so much money on that I will just call her the DAUGHTER, the Cleo, the wallet drain that is really pretty cute, walks out of her room and whuffs at me, squeakily.  It is darling and my heart melts.   

So, of course, I stuff a pill pocket with the steroid pill and set it in front of her.  She sniffs at it and looks up at squeaks at me.  I nudge her, like, go on, I spent $10 on these things, just to fool you, EAT it!  :)  Big Grin, Happy Mom, Everything's OK, just eat the little chicken thing.  HMMMMM?

She won't eat it, but is real cute about that.

No wine, no cigarettes, money leaking out of my wallet and I just drove like crazy to make it to the goddamn vet's office to get you this crap because you have ASTHMA or something and you are a CAT.  SO EAT IT.

YOU HAVE TO.

YOUUUUUUUUU HAAAAAAAAAVE TOOOOOOOOOOO!  I scream and stomp around the kitchen, which causes all three cats to run under the bed for the next hour and a half, and forces me to open a bottle of wine.

I am at my wit's end.  At this point I want to lock them all out of the house and call the coyotes.