A true case of feline majesty

AN ASSISTANT vet at the clinic looks at me in bewilderment. “Just why did you name this cat ‘Phantom’?” he asks.

Actually, I didn’t name him “Phantom”; it came from his previous owner. I’ve never liked the name from the time that he came to live with us last year.

A “phantom” is something close to a ghost or a spirit, difficult to see clearly. Phantom the cat doesn’t fit that description. The boy is huge – seven kilos. He remains light-footed, but because of his old age and arthritis, he is not so graceful.

His previous owner once told me that the person who had owned Phantom before her named him “Tom”. She didn’t like that name, so she added “Phan-”, just to give the cat a more unusual name.

Yet the name simply doesn’t match the cat’s personality. He has a royal way about him, proud but not aggressive, a real lion of a domestic cat.

Even when he’s sick, he’s dignified and polite.

Unfortunately, he’s sick again. Tests have confirmed that his pancreatitis has returned. Perhaps it wasn’t completely cured three weeks ago. Phantom hides a lot of problems under his dignity.

Thus his pancreas is still inflamed. His digestion and blood sugar levels are now affected. He needs medication and a calm atmosphere in which to heal.

Phantom, though, accepts nothing by mouth. The last time, when he had “only” two pills once a day, he let me give him the pills for three days, and then he stopped cooperating.

Maybe he thinks taking pills is undignified. Maybe he had bad experiences with his previous owners. He’s old but still strong, and I couldn’t hold him anymore. I couldn’t even force his mouth open. As he pulled away from me, he used some feline curses I had never heard from his mouth before.

To fight the pancreatitis this time, Phantom needs to take four pills in the morning and two in the evening every day. On the advice of my vet, who knows that I could never administer the medication, Phantom is now at the vet’s.

The vets and assistants have their own methods for giving a cat or dog pills. Some approach the animal head-on, forcing open the jaws with one hand and popping the pill in with the other far from the tip of the tongue. Then they gently hold the mouth shut until the pill is swallowed.

Since my gang simply slip backwards until I can no longer hold them, I usually wrap one arm around the animal, leaving my hand free to push open the mouth. Then I pop the pill in with the other hand.

The vet reports that the boy is improving daily. She knows because on the first day, she was able to give him the pills herself. Three days later, he became so strong that she could no longer hold him and had to ask for some strong young men to help her out.

Aha, I think, Phantom has regained his dignity.

I’ve also begun to think that Phantom’s name has to go. It’s so unsuitable.

At home, I’ve been calling him “Mister Majestic”, but since he lives in Thailand, I’d really like an elegant Thai name for this elegant cat.

The first suggestion comes from that assistant vet. He prefers “Leo”, which isn’t really Thai but is still better than “Phantom”. Other suggestions have been “Rammasoon” and “Tosakan”, in keeping with Phantom’s large size, but if he’s going to be named after a giant or demon, at least it should be a good giant or demon, not these two baddies.

Do you have any suggestions? Just email me at [email protected].

I’d love to hear from you, and so, I suspect, would Phantom.