...Nah, still doesn't outrank washing a freshly-skunked cat. Though he and I have had a few more rounds about whether my blood should be inside or outside in the struggle to medicate him than we ever did in the skunk incident.
Today, we settled on an excellent compromise - I doze in a chair, and I get a lapfull of purring fur that drains all the tension out of me. I move, I get told to let him out (not a chance, when he's still healing). I medicate him, I get told I'm a dirty rotten no-good scoundrel, and he wants nothing further to do with me. Cash on the table says we have the exact same negotiation tomorrow.
I love that little ball of obstinacy.
PS - apologies for the mostly-broken state of the free ice cream machine; work is running me flat-out right now. I'll be back in January, when year-end is over and things trend more toward sane.
They are wonderful companions until you try to do something they don't like, aren't they. Hope your bundle of fur feels better.
ReplyDeleteNothing worse than a sick kitty. You want so much to tell them it will be okay, that the pain will pass, or whatever ... I'm glad you get those temporary truces so you both can rest.
ReplyDeleteDaddybear - I'd say he's not my bundle of fur, but he'd strongly object and point out that I may be unreliable staff (from his point of view), but I'm still staff.
ReplyDeleteRev - He's healing pretty well, but it's not near as fast as I wish it was. Then again, I don't heal near as fast as I wish I did. We'll both be better when he stops threatening me with disembowelment for being fed antibiotics, and I no longer have to feed antibiotics to him.