Tim is not a fan of animals. He never really has been, so he gets a little...um...let's just say he gets crabby. So, anyways, he has been less than charmed about the feral cat situation. I ignore him, because really, even if I didn't feed them, we'd still have feral cats around.
Since discovering that one of them has mange, Tim was even less charmed. For one thing, the poor thing looks pretty disgusting. For another thing, the medicine was pricey. I also bought the expensive cat food to insure that he'd greedily gobble down the medication.
Once again, I ignored Tim, because, really, even if I didn't get the medication, that cat would still look pretty disgusting. Even worse, once a cat gets mange, it is something very contagious. We'd have a half dozen cats hanging around looking disgusting. He'd be way more upset.
And let's get real here. The man paid way 7 times that amount for a bunch of old oil cans just a month ago, and he ignored my thoughts on it.
Plus, it was my birthday, so hey, surprise! I got mange medication and expensive cat food for my birthday. I would say he got off light.
So after some math work to figure out the proper dosage for a 5 lb animal using a product made for cattle, I got it all worked out that I needed .25 ml.
The next day, on our way out to have supper for our anniversary, Tim took it pretty well when I told him I needed to make another stop at a store to pick up an infant dosage syringe.
I was all set, and then I wound up medicating the wrong black cat. I only saw his behind, and he was a black cat, so I treated him. When I saw him licking his smackers in gratitude for his great meal. I realized that he was not the right cat. He saw me, he grabbed the plastic bowl and scooted off to lick it clean.
When he was finally done, I retrieved the bowl, and waited. Mangey did not show.
I looked around for him this morning, but saw no signs of him. I began to worry that I'd spent a wad of money on a cat I was never going to see again. I walked down to the renovation and mentioned that to Tim.
Grumpily, he said that he'd see the cat that very morning and went back to mudding.
"Why didn't you tell me??!!" I asked.
"Why would I?" he asked.
He's a pain in the ass when it comes to animals, really.
Anyways, I spent the day painting, and when I walked home, there was Mangey sitting on the side steps. Long story short, I called to him, cheerfully, and he got right up and followed me to the back door. I left the door open and talked to him while I was getting his supper. Usually, he sits patiently waiting, but when I went outside with his medicated supper, he was nowhere to be found. I was sitting in the driveway waiting for him to return when Tim got home.
I explained, and Tim went into the house in a grumpy way. He came back out even grumpier. Evidently, while my back was turned, Mangey had walked right into the house. He has never done that before.
"Here's your cat," he snapped, and went back in the house, closing the door harder than he needed to, in my humble opinion, because heaven knows, I wasn't exactly delighted to have a mangey cat in the house either.
Anyways, Mangey ate his entire supper, every bite of it. He was so sociable that I got the idea to get vinyl gloves on and try to get some anti itch cream on him. It was too soon. He bolted.
But...the good news is that I managed to get a full dose of medication in him. Fingers crossed.
I'll keep feeding him the good cat food so that he returns and I can continue to keep track of how he's doing. (Tim will be delighted.)