Quote:
Originally Posted by Blossom
Yikes! Maisy would never do such a thing she just screams and tries to get away but she'd never hurt me. I've had her since she was 7 weeks old. She was adopted from Nebraska Humane Society. She is my furry daughter. I've only had to give her a pill twice. Once tapeworms because if hotels which was easy to make her eat in a kitty snack but the flea pill from last year's move was so tiny she just couldn't swallow it and it couldn't be crushed. We had to hold her till it went down. Sweetpea is smaller and easier to tricked into taking a pill but Maisy is a large cat.
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Kvetch was an adult when I acquired her. She was pre-owned and declawed, but abandoned by her prior owners. I found her in the hall in my building in the winter and took her in.
She had an assortment of ailments that medication alleviated but did not cure, including a nasty sinus condition and a tendency toward diarrhea. The pills were attempts to mend her health.
She got her name from her habit of complaining loudly about everything. When I brought her out of the examining room after one vet visit, a patron waiting with her dog said "So
that's what was making noises like a foghorn." "Yes. This is Kvetch. You understand how she got her name."
I later acquired a tiny black kitten, courtesy of a feral cat who had a litter in the back courtyard of my building. My SO commented that with his sharp, pointed face and huge ears, he looked like a bat, so he got named Desmodus (the vampire bat), a/k/a Dizzy, a/k/a "Get
out of there, you little bat face!"
Kvetch was distinctly unhappy when Dizzy joined the fold, and gave us filthy "Since when do you bring home things you find in gutters?" looks. She was an older, excessively dignified female cat. He was a kitten, and a force of chaos in her ordered world.
When Kvetch would use the cat box, Dizzy would follow and watch. "Whatcha doing, big cat? Taking a big messy shit? Can I watch? Huh? Huh? Can I? Huh?" Kvetch would stalk back out again after finishing, tail stiff and quivering with indignation, eyes dilated so they were all pupil, radiating "It's a kitten. I want to rip its throat out, but its a
kitten!" and go off to sulk. Dizzy was quite unfazed by her anger.
Years later, Kvetch had died, and I got another kitten, who did the same thing to Dizzy when he used the cat box that he had done to Kvetch. He couldn't understand why my SO and I reacted with hysterical laughter when we saw him stalking away from the cat box in high dudgeon.
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Dennis