George W is the most gentle cat you would ever meet. He's low key, only mildly passive-aggressive. For a cat, mildly passive-aggressive is a big deal.
He's been making some weird noises lately. I thought perhaps he was trying to cough up a hairball. I've never actually seen a cat hack up a hairball, but I imagine it would sound something like George's noises.
I was standing in the kitchen and I heard what sounded like an adult human, with allergies and asthma. I'm not kidding. I whipped around to see George W. He's never been sick. I did have a cat one time who had seasonal allergies. A little bit of liquid Benadryl took care of business, though the cat foamed at the mouth when given a dose. There's not a drop of liquid Benadryl to be found, there has been no need for it. I pull a tablet, break it in half, get that big. beautiful cat in my lap, pry open his mouth, shuddering at his razor sharp teeth, and I poke my finger and the tablet down his throat.
He's a little ticked off, not bad just a little. Maybe surprised or appalled would be a better description. He jumps down. Who am I to stop him? There is a whole lot of spitting and sputtering going on in our kitchen.
Please God make that Benadryl stay down. George, just relax a little, it won't be as difficult if you just relax. (At least that's what doctors tell humans. Ms. Shaw, if you just relax this baby can come on out. I would like to take the doctor by the scruff of the neck, or better yet, by the testicles and squeeze really hard. This isn't hurting me a bit doctor, if you just relax you can cough those balls right out of your throat. You'll be just fine. Don't be a wuss)
Sorry, I got a little carried away with inflicting pain.
I did try to give George a hit of albuterol. I don't have a mask, so I was on my own. I knew once the SWOOSH occurred I would be living on borrowed time. This cat trusts me, but he is an animal after all. I pry his mouth open, put the inhaler as far in his mouth as possible, SWOOSH, I let 'er rip. He's shaking his head, spitting, jumping to the floor and I bend over and SWOOSH again, in his general vicinity, hoping a few particles get to his lungs. (Covid is magical, right? It knows to leave humans alone when they are sitting down for dinner, but comes back out after ten at night. Hopefully I have intelligent albuterol.)
I later find the regurgitated half of Benadryl under our dining table.
He's better today. He came and laid down on my arm, purring. He knows I was just trying to help him. Maybe it was a psychological healing. Or a miracle. I'll take it, whatever it was. A pet in distress is alarming.
DISCLAIMER: Do not try this at home. I am not a professional. Seek medical advice for your pets.
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