Well, the good news is that Vader hasn't yet killed me in my sleep. The bad news is that she decided to extract her revenge by shitting all over my bath mat. Twice. The good news is that the Gator Girl found it before I did and decided to help with the clean up.
Wait. That's not good news. That's gross news.
Human kids don't eat cat shit, do they?
Joe and I spent the rest of the weekend trying to devise new ways to get the Super Antibiotic into the cat. Joe Googled it even and found a site that described the need to wait until both you and the cat were relaxed (by the way, I'm pretty sure Vader hasn't been relaxed in a good seven years) and then hold the cat a certain way and apply pressure to a certain jaw joint and then put the syringe further back into the cat's mouth as to avoid the taste buds (or whatever) that act as a border guard for bitter tasting things. Cats, did you know, have this sort of defense mechanism where if they come into contact with something bitter (such as the super antibiotic), they produce foam and spit and saliva to keep the bitterness from going anywhere.
Oh, so now you tell me.
But no matter what we tried, the foaming continued.
So Monday I called Dr. Kirk again and explained the badness that was going on. The foaming and the misery. By Monday, Vader had stopped eating because of the failed attempt to medicate her food and had taken up refuge under the day bed in my office. She was, in a woefully lacking word, unhappy, and was there any other antibiotic we could try?
Then I spent a while on the phone, listening to Dr. Kirk talking to himself as he discussed our options. It sounded like this: No, no, nope. That's not strong enough. That's not going to work. Nope, nope, nope.
"Well, we could try this," he said. "But here's the thing-"
I really love it when there are things. Really.
"They don't make this pill-"
I have to pill the cat? But how will I do that without crushing it into a fine powder and putting it into food? Isn't there a nice liquid form we could use?
"In a small enough size for kitty cats," Dr. Kirk continued. "So here's what you'll have to do..."
What I have to do involves taking the capsule and opening it, dividing the yellow powder inside into two equal parts and then putting half back into the half of capsule and trying to work out a way to get that into the cat.
"Oh," I said. "That's all? Got any bombs I can diffuse while I'm at it?"
But, as I think this blog has recently proved, I am insane and I will do for my pets what needs to be done, dragging Joe (sometimes kicking and screaming) along for the ride. This morning I dragged him out of bed at 6:30. Then I dragged Vader out from underneath the daybed. We did her eye treatment (more on that in a minute) and then set her on the dining room table and set to work puzzling out just how the hell we were going to get her new antibiotic into her.
We tried food first. No dice as Vader is still in the mindset that I am trying to poison her. Joe then came up with the brilliant idea to dissolve the powder into water and then use the syringe to get the liquid into her. This idea worked. There was a little drool (this time yellow, just for something different) but it worked.
And there was much rejoicing.
That is until we noticed the facial swelling. Yep, that's right. I said facial swelling. There's a pouch under Vader's left eye that's just growing bigger by the day. It's making it hard for her to open her eye. You know, harder than the yellow sludge was already making things. So finally, as Dr. Kirk's office was already closed for the night, I Googled it.
The under eye pouch is a potential sign that Vader is having an allergic reaction to the eye ointment. It's an ointment that the vast majority of cats have no troubles tolerating but, as this blog as proved, Vader is far from an ordinary cat.
Looks like I'll be making yet another call to Dr. Kirk in the morning. He'll be so pleased.