Thursday, February 16, 2017

My Life According to My Cat: The Pill

It's morning, but early yet. There is no sun peeking through the curtain, though the sky is gray tone instead of black. I close my eye again, curled comfortably into my little warm ball of fur. For anyone reading this who is not a cat, I feel sorry for you. Because you have no idea of the delights of being able to curl into a ball and be surrounded by warm fur, and because you are not a cat (you can take comfort that you are not a dog, though).

A door creaks open. Her. It's always her this early. Trying to be stealthy, to sneak out here quietly to where I'm cuddled up on the couch. I would laugh if it wasn't so pitiful. Humans really have no idea what loud creatures they are.

Footsteps. You'd think an elephant taught her to walk. She must have learned how to be stealthy from a dog. I would teach her better, but that would be annoying. Plus, it is more convenient this way. No need to listen hard to figure out where she is. I curl tighter into my ball, closing my eye again. I'm almost back to sleep when I hear that hideous noise: "FEESH! Hun-nee!" What possessed her to think "feesh" was a good nickname for me? If she was going to call me something delicious, couldn't she at least pronounce it correctly, "fish" instead of "feesh"? She's no better than a kitten.

It is laughable, though, that she thinks she's whispering. The other humans must be deaf not to hear her.

"There you are, my love!" a hand musses up my fur before I have a chance to turn around, as the couch cushion next to me sinks. She's faster than I thought she would be. But then, it's only because I'm still practically asleep. I open my eye again. There she is, smiling that smile which means danger. Sure enough, as she pulls me onto her lap, I see the disgusting pill in her other hand.

My mouth is open and it's going down my throat before I can claw my way free. Bleugh! It tastes awful, like that time I licked my fur after going through some cobwebs. Bitter and sticky. I glare at her as she proceeds to run her hand over my fur. It was clean. "There, now you sleep until it's time to eat."

I'd scratch her, but that would be rude. Although as she continues to hold me, the temptation is strong. I squirm, and she finally gets the hint and deposits me back into my nice warm spot. As she gets up and heads into the kitchen, I consider chasing after her to bite her ankle. But it's not worth the trouble. I'll trip her later when she's getting my food ready.

I curl back into my spot, but now the blanket is messed up. I claw at it until it's adequate, and lay back down. She'll leave me alone for an hour now, before she comes back with my food. I run my tongue over my paw. I'll sleep again. But I'll need another bath first.

To learn more about why MeMe needs medicine, you can check out this post I wrote on my other blog.

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