19 producer

It turns out my parents' cat didn't get enough medicine to make him better. So today was the third day in a row I've gone over there to force-feed him, and apparently he was tired of it. I walked away from the incident with a hole torn in one of my favorite pairs of jeans, and a couple of nice bloody bite marks underneath that on my calf. If I hadn't punched him in the nose and then held him at bay with the bottom of my shoe until I got to the door, it might have been worse. He's lucky he was steering me away from the shotgun in the den?

Plus, I didn't get the medicine even out of the bottle before it all happened. Tomorrow I'll be prepared with a blanket to wrap him up and keep him where I need him.

I have five more days of feeding him. I have a feeling that before the end of it, I'm going to need some ideas.