No more Mr nice guy
Play
Phantom and Wan Wan have all sorts of tricks up their paws when it comes to taking medicine
WHAT A DIFFERENCE a week makes! The members of my mini-zoo who are under medication have certainly begun to improve, with unexpected results.
Phantom, who at 18 years old should be hobbling around like any other elderly cat, is showing renewed vigour. Gone is the compliant cat who wished to stay in his bedroom and enjoy the breezes and the sounds from the soi below.
The room is large and full of cat things, as well as food and a litter tray, but Phantom prefers to wander around, selecting personal sleeping spots and occasionally saying hello to me downstairs.
Giving him his pills and liquids has always been difficult. A cat of strong likes and dislikes, Phantom has never accepted anyone shoving anything into his mouth. Now, it’s become almost impossible.
He’s supposed to be sick, with infections and inflammations in his mouth, eyes and nose. You’d think he’d be too weak to protest too much.
No.
As I hold him to push a pill or a syringe into his mouth, he screams, yells, moans, growls, while he twists, turns and strains to get away.
Of the many pills he has to take, the tiny ones are a problem. He simply spits them out, or – worse – pretends to swallow them. Then, when I’m not looking, he hides them under a food dish.
Sometimes I wish he could be more like my poodle Wan-Wan. She has to take a pill every day to strengthen her liver, and although she doesn’t much like it, she swallows it, mainly because she knows that she’ll get a treat afterwards.
Phantom cannot be bribed. It’s much easier to crush the tiny pills up and put them in a drop of one of his favourite moist treats. I then rub the mixture on his lips and gums, and thus he gets part of his medication without much struggle.
In the morning, since he’s still in his bedroom, I can catch him easily. In the evening, though, he’s been wandering around the house and settled in one of his sleeping spots. He’s no fool. He knows that these spots are under the stairs where I cannot reach him.
“Phantom!” I say. “Go to your room!” He used to obey. Now, he stares at me, as in “Make me!” He knows that his medication is there.
I have to wait until he gets bored and comes down the stairs, where I can carry him up to his bedroom. There his medicine and his special food await.
All is not serene. Phantom’s relationship with the other cats has changed too.
Once, Thep the soi cat could come into Phantom’s bedroom, sample the food and check out the kitty litter tray.
No longer. Just last night, Thep walked into the room as usual. Phantom chased him into a corner and then bit down on his spine.
I waited for screams of pain, but Thep just sat there. Phantom moved his bite to just under Thep’s head, and still Thep was silent.
Both cats looked completely confused. When I managed to pick Thep up and get him out of Phantom’s bedroom, I realised that Thep’s back was all wet, but not with blood. Phantom had drooled all over him.
Was this love – or is Phantom unable to bite, possibly because of the problems in his gum?
This morning, Phantom jumped on Thep, but they rolled around as if they were playing.
Is Phantom in his old age finally learning how to play with another cat – or is he simply not strong enough to fight anymore?
I don’t know. In fact, I don’t know much of anything. This morning, I also found a pile of liver pills hidden behind a water dish, where Wan the pup had spit them out.
