So off to the vet clinic this morning we went. The veterinarian diagnosed him with cellulitis. This is just a sort of non-specific inflammation. At this point there is no clear abscess, so nothing to lance. He sent us home with a bottle of antibiotic.
So I’m preparing to give this amazingly strong 11 pound cat this medicine. I’m supposed to give him 3 ml a day until the bottle is empty.
OK.
I pull the dropper from the bottle and discover it is marked with 12.5 and 25 mg. I have no idea how this translates to ml. As I am pondering this, with the damn cat tucked under my arm. He wildly swings a paw and sends the little bottle of medicine flying. Now the carpet and toy box in Liam’s room are covered with icky sticky medicine. There is none in the cat and none in the bottle.
My work here is done. Goal accomplished. The bottle is empty.
Crap.
2 comments:
It is your fault that I am laughing at your misfurtune. (Spelled wrong intentionally.) Your storytelling is so freakin' entertaining, I cannot help but chuckle at your pain.
Better luck next time? Love you.
Bahahaha!!! 1 point cat, no points Janie!! Seriously though, I feel your pain. We dread that day every six months or so when we have to give our cat his wormer; to say he doesn't like it is an extreme understatement! Good luck with your future furry medicinal endeavors. :)
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