By Nellie Curtiss …
A friend laughed the other day as she told the story of properly administering meds to a cat. She said, “If we can get to the moon and back, then we ought to have medicine for cats that they WANT to take, that taste good to the cat.” This week with the help of Angels Fund paying the bill for Tigger’s surgery at Dr. Deal’s Monte Vista Animal Clinic, I unfortunately feel the same way.
As one of many proud SLV Cats Alive community cat-caretakers, I have experience that this notion should be so. For example, Tigger had a nasty two-pronged injury on his groin area and bleeding flesh was exposed. Before he could be seen, antibiotics were ordered to start the healing.
I’m not as nimble at bending, chasing, snatching, and holding as I used to be. It’s hard to even unscrew a child resistant cap, much less wrangle a wildly oppositional feline with claws. Though he resisted, I was able to get a smidgen of the liquid antibiotic between his lips while a good portion languished on his orange coat. He was restricted now and no more battles outside, at least until he heals.
During the day, Tigger would curl up by the window and didn’t find any cardboard box inviting. He did eat but not as much as usual. Once I had the pink antibiotic loaded in the needleless syringe, I had to cup it in my hand and hide it by my leg. Sometimes I could quickly hug him and get most of the dose down as ordered; but sometimes, he would catch a whiff of the medicine as I was approaching, and he would leap off the feeding station. Playing hide and seek for the next few minutes, that is, until I gave up, Tigger strutted like he won the skirmish.
The filled syringe strategically sat by my chair so that it would be ready when Tigger climbed up to my lap or walked across the chair’s arm. I think, it was once, once only, that I managed a quick grab and poke to his mouth on that occasion. In a couple days, Tigger was handed over for his surgery in the top opening carrier. His injury required some stitches. Carla checked him in at the MV Animal Clinic with direction to return before 4:30 pm when they close.
When Tigger was claimed again and let out of the carrier, he was still under the influence of anesthesia as he staggered and jostled about for a bit. In the morning, the first dose of medicine was a little bit easier as Carla had sent a long-nosed syringe so even the tiniest crack between his lips allowed antibiotic through. I had failed at crushing pills in their cuisine from prior visits, so the liquid was prescribed. Some doses over the next several days were more successful than others with the pink liquid landing on my shoes, or my arm, my face, blouse, on the floor, or on the wall. As he gained his strength and healed, he became more like a miniature bronco given his vigor to avoid the medicine. But, I had made a strategy that worked; I would wait for him and then catch him as he nibbled on the Friskies.
After all of this, his stitches dissolved and he’s again the friendly feline who likes to cuddle. I wish that he could tell me specifically what had happened. Who fought with him? What poked him? Whatever happened, it was a nasty injury and I’m so glad Dr. Deal’s team cared for him. But it still remains, why is it so hard to give cats their medicines, or any of our pets their medicines? Why do we struggle to mash up pills or squirt antibiotic between the lips and risk injury ourselves? Isn’t there an inventor who could design a sure method, a sure medicine that the feline will eat as readily as they eat from a fresh can of tuna? Or meds for canines that are as enticing as a peanut-butter Dream Bone?
So, since we can rocket to the moon, since we can create cell phones, computers, the internet, and satellite television, then by now, we should have an easy-peasy method of getting meds into our pets. Where is it?
Nelda Curtiss is a retired college educator and long-time local columnist. Reach her at http://www.columnsbynellie.com or email her at columnsbynellie@gmail.com
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