This morning I was at my wits end.
(I’ve written and re-written this post many times, each time taking more of the anger and despair out.)
Ethel can get her cone off in seconds and she won’t take her meds today. I’ve opened three different kinds of fresh food, ground the meds and added it—it’s a teeny amount—and she’s refused every one. She even refused fresh Tuna fish, her former favourite thing. She even turns her nose up if I offer her the fresh food to smell in the tin, but she’ll lick the empty tin after I give the food to Fred. There I times I hate her surgically repaired guts.
I’ll persevere; I’ll do the best I can. But I’m failing to do almost all of what the vet wanted.
Yesterday was worse. I put a call out for help on Facebook with Patsy’s aid (I don’t Facebook) and heard from Victoria. I was so relieved, but she was a half our late this morning and came with two kids so I sent her away.
On the plus side, Fred has calmed down. There is no more hissing and snarling. Thank God for that. That’s one thing that’s better. And the other is Ethel: In spite of not taking her meds and in spite of licking her wound (that I rinse with Polysporin), she’s showing remarkable vigor and spunk and looks vibrant again.
Patsy is coming to dinner. That will help me forget about my pet problems for a while, and tomorrow will be a better day.