The Beest can go ahead and scratch herself bald for all I care. After tonight's battle I'm done. She went into full hellcat mode, scratching and biting. She fought her way half out of the laprug. I still managed to get the pill in but my left hand is shredded. She ran off to the back of the house and licked the blood off her claws. My left thumb is the size of a zucchini. We are ignoring each other at present.
Susan sent me the funniest damn email about giving a cat a pill. If you'd like it, shoot me an email and I'll forward it. I went to read it again after the fur settled and I staunched the flow. I felt much better. It wasn't that bad.
But still, I'm done with these battles. It's not worth the trauma to either of us and I don't want to be scarred up when I meet Greg. Go ahead and be a neurotic biting scratching patchily-furred cat, Beest. I'm not gonna intervene anymore. I wash my hands of it. With disinfectant.
The Door Is Ajar.
6 days ago