Little Scarlett has passed her blood tests with flying colors. No major communicable diseases means I can introduce her to our cat Fergus.
This is a relief. Each night Fergus has been trying out a new love song on her to try and get her to come and play. This has meant many interruptions in our sleep patterns for the past week.
These last few nights have found him shut in the living room, two doors away. I can’t hear him, but I bet the neighbors can.
Ideally I’d prefer to wait until the worming meds have taken effect to prevent another incident like the last time we brought a kitten with baggage into our home. But although little Scarlett has dutifully been gobbling her doses coated in leberwürst, Fergus is a tougher case. He’s never been a friend to pills and has never been one to be easily fooled by bribes or slight of hand. A pill is a pill even when crushed and mixed with otherwise yummy stuff and he’s having none of it.
One pill, crushed and disguised, was discovered about halfway through ingestion and no amount of additions of other-lovely-things-he’s-no-longer-allowed-to-have has persuaded him to finish it off. After starving him for day didn’t break his resolve, I tried popping a butter-coated half of a tablet down his gullet.
It almost worked. I was pretty proud of myself until he managed to walk it back up his throat with his tongue and spit it out about three minutes later. Another attempt just left us both pissed off and smeared with butter and meat paste. He’s made his stance on pills pretty clear. So when the kitten gets her booster immunizations, Fergus will come along for some professional pill-popping help. I give up.
So for better or for worse (hopefully not), here we go. Tonight’s the night.