Golden Boy

Such is the new moniker for Clancy the Cat, who recently underwent (expensive) emergency bowel surgery mid-November.  Clancy’s tummy, and my wallet, will never be the same.   I’m not sharing the amount of money I spent on his recovery, except to say that there will be no Caribbean vacations in my immediate future.

I discovered that caring for an sick cat is much different than caring for a sick dog. When dogs are sick, they plop themselves down in a corner and mope; cats hide.  Dogs can usually be coaxed into taking medication, either by hiding it in their food or stuffing it in a treat; cats are not so easily fooled.  Dogs will sit and tolerate post-operative ministrations because they want to please you; cats could give a crap and escape to yet another hidey-hole, just to annoy you.

The process of caring for a sick cat goes something like this:

Step One.  Owner retrieves the cat from under the bed, where he has been hiding since his return from the cat hospital. A large towel is at the ready.

Step Two:   The cat is wrapped in the towel, creating what is called the “Cat Burrito.”  The “Cat Burrito” is a time-honoured method of safely immobilizing cats.  (Note: cats do not like being Cat Burritos.)

Step Three:  While holding the Cat Burrito, a friend is solicited to administer the medications. The first medication is a pill, ejected into the cat’s mouth via a “pill gun.” The pill gun is a long cylinder-type gizmo that places the pill at the back of the cat’s throat, ensuring the safety of your friend’s fingers.  The next two medications are liquid suspension formulas, ejected via a syringe into the cat’s mouth.

Step Four:  Release the cat from burrito. With the next medication dose, repeat steps one through four. (Note: with each successive administration, the cat will find new and better hidey-holes.  An alcoholic beverage for the owner, after steps one through four, is highly recommended.)

I’m happy to say that Clancy is now recovered, playful as a kitten and no worse for the wear. I’ve sprouted several more white hairs and Buddy is still wondering what all the fuss was about.

After all this, Golden Boy better live a long, long time.


A recovered Clancy, with Santa and Rudolf.

P.S. For your feline-watching amusment, I give you Monkey, the harness-hating kitty.


5 thoughts on “Golden Boy

  1. Poor you. Poor Golden Boy. A handsome one. Glad he’s on the mend
    I forked over a bundle early in the new year for dental extraction for one cat. Thank goodness for Visa. I was lucky, Dickens’ meds were liquid. I gave up on shooting into his mouth. He’s all claws– all sixteen legs. 😀 😀 I squirted the liquid on his leg or chest and rubbed it on before he escaped. 😦

    • You know my pain. 🙂

      Having a friend help was essential. I heard about rubbing the liquid meds into their ear; that might have worked, except that I think Buddy would have gotten the doses instead of the cat (he loves licking Clancy’s ears).

  2. Pingback: Golden Boy, Part II | I'd rather be living in Bora Bora

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