So, a lady and a cat go on a road trip ...

First of all, I want to reassure everybody that Little Girl is in no pain. Both of her vets told me that her condition is not at all painful. As I was telling BNG, what we are faced with here is a life-span issue, not a pain-control issue, and now that she's on the meds, her prospects for living a good life for a good while yet are, well, good.


And let me tell you right now, that cat is a saint. On Monday, we had to go to Ithaca to consult with the cardiologist. According to my car's odometer, the cardiologist's office is 55 miles from my house. We were at the office for three hours. Little Girl was in her crate from quarter to nine in the morning until two-thirty in the afternoon, except when she was removed to be ultrasounded and EKG'd and x-rayed and examined, and that little sweetheart never made a peep.

Oh! And let me tell you about the greatest invention EVER. While we were at the cardiologist, after all the tests had been run and analyzed, the vet started going over the pills that Little Girl would have to take. She asked if I was okay with pilling a cat, and I told her, "it depends on the cat". See, some cats are easier to pill than others. Rocky, my old cat, did not object to being pilled. The Runt haaaaaated being pilled, but I could usually get the pills down him.

Little Girl? She barely tolerates being petted, so I knew pilling her could be, well, difficult.


I explained all this to the vet, and she said, (oh! And she had this really charming accent! I think it was Polish, but I'm not sure. It was ADORABLE. I wanted to marry her just to listen to that accent.) "Have you tried a pill pusher?"


And I'm, like, "Huh"? Because in my mind, "pill pusher" sounded like "drug dealer". I'm, like, what exactly is she asking me, here?

"A pill pusher!", she said. "You put the pills in one end, and push the plunger, and it pills the cat!"

As it turns out, the technical name is "pet piller". It looks like this:









And yeah, you put the pills in one end, put the thing in the cat's mouth, toward the back, and push the plunger.



And it works! Oh, IT WORKS. The cat has no chance to p-tooey the pills back out - they just go right down the hatch.



My life, and Little Girl's, got a lot easier with that thing.

So! That is where we are. She is on an ACE inhibitor for her heart, a diuretic to counteract side effects from the ACE inhibitor, and baby aspirin to prevent clots. And hopefully the rain that has been falling for a freaking MONTH now will stop soon, so we can both get back outside.

Because that lawn ain't gonna mow itself.