Reasoning? What is Reasoning?
Reasoning does not exist when trying to deal with making cats do what they do not want to do, sigh.
Somehow, Simba managed to tear out one of his claws about a week ago. I'm still not sure how; he might've done it while over at my folks when we were gone for the long weekend, or he might've done it around here after we got back. We didn't notice, at any rate, until it started to smell; infected by that point, of course. (I'd actually had him squawk at me the evening before when I'd touched his paw, but thought at the time that I'd accidently squished it too hard.) One trip to the vet later, and he was outfitted with a cone of shaaaame and accompanied by a packet of antibiotics, along with instructions to soak his paw in epsom-salt-laden water twice a day.
Haaah.
The antibiotics have been bad enough, of course - I managed to get the first one into him almost entirely because of surprise alone, but he's refused to eat the treats that you can stick the pills into, and has since gotten downright belligerent about taking them. I had to try about ten times this morning to get his first dose of the day into him, between the clamping the jaws shut in the best imitation of a toddler and the subsequent spitting it out after I did get it into his mouth. Only two doses left to go, thankfully.
The bathing bit, of course, has gone over like a lead balloon. It takes both Trav and I to hold him still long enough to keep his paw in the water for more than a second, and even then he still manages to worm free before long. I've been doing his morning baths just by keeping a moistened cotton ball over the site, but this is probably less effective than the full deal.
The cone just makes him look ridiculous, and he gave me the most hurt looks after we got back from the vet with it on. :p He has been enjoying neck scratches and bellyrubs much more than he usually does in the meantime.
At least his paw doesn't smell like awful any more. A good sign, I s'pose.
Somehow, Simba managed to tear out one of his claws about a week ago. I'm still not sure how; he might've done it while over at my folks when we were gone for the long weekend, or he might've done it around here after we got back. We didn't notice, at any rate, until it started to smell; infected by that point, of course. (I'd actually had him squawk at me the evening before when I'd touched his paw, but thought at the time that I'd accidently squished it too hard.) One trip to the vet later, and he was outfitted with a cone of shaaaame and accompanied by a packet of antibiotics, along with instructions to soak his paw in epsom-salt-laden water twice a day.
Haaah.
The antibiotics have been bad enough, of course - I managed to get the first one into him almost entirely because of surprise alone, but he's refused to eat the treats that you can stick the pills into, and has since gotten downright belligerent about taking them. I had to try about ten times this morning to get his first dose of the day into him, between the clamping the jaws shut in the best imitation of a toddler and the subsequent spitting it out after I did get it into his mouth. Only two doses left to go, thankfully.
The bathing bit, of course, has gone over like a lead balloon. It takes both Trav and I to hold him still long enough to keep his paw in the water for more than a second, and even then he still manages to worm free before long. I've been doing his morning baths just by keeping a moistened cotton ball over the site, but this is probably less effective than the full deal.
The cone just makes him look ridiculous, and he gave me the most hurt looks after we got back from the vet with it on. :p He has been enjoying neck scratches and bellyrubs much more than he usually does in the meantime.
At least his paw doesn't smell like awful any more. A good sign, I s'pose.