Où sont mes drogues?

Forget about the iceberg lettuce shortage: here at Le Château we’re going through the rather more desperate Gabapentin pill drought. There are none whatsoever in the whole of West London, and the vet isn’t sure when they will be able to get hold of any.

I received the bad news by phone whilst in a packed football stadium and never have I been more glad of the noise, because, to a casual eavesdropper, the conversation wouldn’t have sounded great: “No, I’ve never had any problem getting hold of pills before. Yes, I’ve ordered 100, but please may I make it 150 in case there’s a problem next time, too? No, I already have plenty of the powdered version, thank you. Yes, it’s definitely the pills that I want …”

Our situation with Louis Catorze is a bit like that film Speed, where they have to keep driving the bus at a minimum of 50 miles per hour otherwise it will blow up. If we don’t keep Catorze’s medication at a constant level, his symptoms are likely to come back … and there’s no way on earth I want to return to the bad old days of nightly yowling and hissing and a chewed, bleeding tail.

It’s a blessing that we at least have the powder, but administering it isn’t easy. For a start, Sa Majesté won’t eat it in jambon de Bayonne, I assume because, like garlic, its pungency increases when crushed, so he can smell it immediately. It’s too wispy and floaty to just throw into his open mouth, so I have to actually shove my fingers in … and there’s nothing more terrifying than having to touch the jaws and teeth of a snapping, hissing beast who wants me dead. And, although powder is harder to spit out than pills, the unpredictable consistency and the fact that Catorze fights like a brute mean there are far too many variables to be able to measure doses accurately: spillages on clothes, furniture, the floor, my hair and his fur, bits that remain stuck to my fingers, and so on. So I haven’t the faintest idea how much of the powder actually makes it into him.

Not that any of this seems to affect him long-term, though; his tail remains intact and he is continuing to eat, drink and pitter-patter happily about Le Château, unaware of all the stress he is causing us.

Cat Daddy: “He’s aware. Of course he’s aware. He just doesn’t give a shit.”

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11 thoughts on “Où sont mes drogues?

  1. Aww, he is a beautiful cat! My Magic is undergoing treatment for arthritis with some muscle wasting and I give him Gabapentin 3 times a day. Luckily I haven’t been bitten by him, in fact he seems to have a cat’s sense of when the next pill is due and shows up to let me get his pill container out.

    Liked by 2 people

      1. LOL! Well, no, I love my Magic too much to swap, but I know I would love meeting your cat. I love cats. Magic is 15 now and he really has gelled with me. We rescued he and his son Salem in 2006 and he honesty seems to be a little human in cat’s clothing! I call him my “husband” because he likes to sleep with his arms hugging my neck.Salem is less tolerant of medication though. He didn’t learn the art of anticipating the time for medicine from his dad!

        Liked by 1 person

    1. That does work, but sadly it doesn’t solve the issue of not being able to measure properly: bits remain stuck in the syringe or in the mixing vessel, so I still have no idea how much he’s had. He’s a monster, isn’t he? 👿

      Liked by 1 person

  2. There is a herbal version to keep cats calm I put it in water bowl but can’t remember the name. Will ask my cat lady friend what is is. It’s bought in health food stores cheap An perfectly safe

    Liked by 1 person

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