19 producer

When I moved back to Tennessee from Cincinnati a couple of years ago, my family moved in with my parents while we looked for a house. When we moved, we left our two cats with my parents. They've taken care of them ever since and even though they've always been dog people, they've gotten pretty attached to them...even the fat sack of crap biting my hand in the picture to the left.

That's Jeffrey. He was a stray that we got through a roommate's girlfriend in college. He's always been trouble, loves to bite and hog space on the bed.

Jeffrey's been sick lately, and since even the vet's afraid to try and give him medicine, it's fallen on me to try and get him to swallow his pills. I was able to force them down his gullet last night, but today I sat on top of him for an hour jamming chunks of antibiotics down his throat, then crushing them up, then dissolving them in milk and squirting in his mouth with a syringe. I managed to get a half a pill in. He's supposed to have two. He finally decided growling wasn't going to get me off of him, and if I was going to continue to try and make him eat, he was going to make sure I lost some flesh in the process.

You'd never think a twenty-pound cat wouldn't want to eat, would you? Well if you've got any suggestions, pass them on for both our sakes. Because he needs to take his medicine, and I need to find something that keeps me from kneeling over him with his rear claws precariously close to an area they don't need to be.