An Unsubmissive Cat

My inspiration for this cat-tale comes from a favorite blog, "Ruth's Visions and Revisions". Ruth wrote about her schnoodle's allowing her to clean his ears, even though he hates, hates, HATES it.

After Phil's dad died in 1983, we inherited Orville and Reuben, two of Dad's 56 cats. Orville, reclusive and shy, looked exactly like a Kliban cat and spent his days impersonating a meatloaf. Reuben was all charm, although he was only slightly better looking than Bloom County's "Bill the Cat."

Came a day when Reuben needed an antibiotic. We were new at this. We filled the dropper with bright pink medicine. I took Reuben tenderly in my arms and Phil dosed him. Wow, so easy! The next time, Reuben fled through the cat door as soon as he saw the bottle. Fortunately, he forgot the reason for his flight. He ran around the side of the house and appeared a moment or two later at the back door. We welcomed him in and shot the pink stuff into his snaggle-toothed mouth. After that, he turned into a vicious clawing machine. Did I mention that he was a polydactyl, with paws like catcher's mitts, and lethal claws on all those extra toes? We now had to close off all means of escape and take him by stealth. He would attempt his getaway as soon as he saw doors being closed.

We made Reuben finish his medicine. After all, when it comes to dealing with a headstrong cat, you must be a Man, not a Mouse! Reuben was a healthy cat who lived until age 15. I don't remember ever having to medicate him again, which was probably a good thing.