Max says, "Meep. Meep."

So, before we left for our holiday trip through the middle of the country, I took the cats to the vet. Over my better judgment, I might add. Our cats don't go outside. They barely leave our bedroom. I haven't had them to the vet since 2008. I see no reason to give them $50 shots and a $40 "physical exam" EACH so they can spend their twilight days snoozing in the sun even more comfortably. Zoey is terrified of the outdoors and Max never makes it past the front yard even when he bolts.

So, taking them to the vet was not even on my radar until Dec. 8. I found a present left for me in Emma's closet. And as it contained blood, I was concerned. I managed to ignore this concern with the usual affirmations that cats shit blood all the time. This was no big deal. Seeing as how there was no way to tell which cat left the colorful gift, why would I pay for BOTH of them to be checked. For a few precious days, my denial was working. Then on Dec. 10, I found a TOOTH on the floor of my bedroom. It was huge. And by huge, I mean that I originally thought it was a twig Jackson had dragged into the house. I determined that the tooth belonged to Max. Now I had 2 animal medical issues and the overdue guilt from not taking them to the vet for their regular visits so of course, I caved.

The only appointment I could get was on Friday before we left town for 10 days. Zoey was determined to possibly have hyper-thyroidism and required a $90 blood test. Max has tape worms - very common, I'm told and contracted by contact with fleas which we don't have and the cats couldn't have been in contact with because THEY DON'T GO OUTSIDE. Anyway, one pill for Max, a blood-test for Zoey, 3 solid inches of stress-shed cat hair for the vet's nurse to clean up and $300+ later, we went home. Where Max proceeded to BARF all over the floor of our room, effectively negating the treatment we'd just paid $16 for only 23 minutes earlier. And yes, it was Friday so I had to wait until Monday when we were out of town to call them to find out what to do about Max. *insert 10-day time lapse here* Called the vet, Zoey is NOT hyper-thyroidic (and yes, I just made up that word), Max needed another $16 pill and when would I like to schedule BOTH of their $180+ teeth cleanings? Holy Highway Robbery, Batman.

Picked up Max's 2nd pill this evening at 4:30. (You can see where this is going, can't you?) After attempt #1 failed with just me and Max involved (in which the pill was placed a considerable way down his throat and he proceeded to HOLD HIS BREATH and NOT SWALLOW while bicycling his back claws into my abdomen until I released him and he hacked the pill back up onto the bedspread), I enlisted Andy. Andy remembered that the nurse suggested we roll him in a blanket and "chase" the pill with water from a TURKEY BASTER to force him to swallow the pill. This we tried. 3 times. The pill came back up each time in various stages of disolvement and I think Max aspirated about a teaspoon of water. At this point, I took out some wet food and pulverized the remaining fragments of the pill into the food. Max proceeded to LICK ALL THE GRAVY OFF each piece of meat without ingesting any of the actual food. I think, perhaps, he ultimately ate about one tenth of the pill. It was like Max was the Roadrunner and I'm Wylie Coyote constantly pursuing and trying things that EVERYONE ELSE KNOWS will not work.

Did I mention that during none of this 2 hour 15 minute "battle" did Max hide under anything more substantial than the Christmas tree?! (Yes, it's still up people - don't judge me.) He was gloating - Look, lady, there's no way you're going to get me to take the pill. And if you do, I'll just hack it up on your floor again. And then you'll step in it. While I sleep on your pillow.
And so, it has begun. Tonight was merely a mild skirmish in a war that must last at least until Monday because, of course... the vet is closed tomorrow.