I love kittens. Seriously. They are so adorable. I haven't had a kitten in a long time but all the same, I still love them. I love how you can be walking down the hall way and out of freaking no where jumps a little ball of fur to do the sideways-hair-standing-straight-up-shimmy walk. And then...POOF! Gone again. Only to be repeated about 44 times more throughout the day. I love how they curl up in your lap at the end of the day to make biscuits with their little paws until they find that oh so right place to nestle in and take a siesta.
Our little Oli has been no different. Ahem. Aside from the ringworm. Which I am happy to report he is finally free of. So we love him. He's cute. He's wild (are boy kittens much like boy children, wild and seemingly hopped up on something?). He's curious. He's a pest. Rewind back to Monday afternoon. Delaney and Oli are playing in her room. I come in for a few minutes and as I'm standing there I look down to spy near Oli's rear something white and sticking to his bottom.
Me: What's that?
Delaney: I don't know. It looks like a piece of grass.
Upon closer inspection and prodding of said "grass" it turns out to be a worm. That's right. Tapeworm to be more specific.
Me: It's a damn worm! Please go get me a tissue!
Delaney: Ewwwww! Okay, be right back!
Before I can start dry heaving, we dispose of the worm. I'm not surprised. We got him from the shelter. We've already had freaking ringworm. Why not tackle tapeworms on top of that? God evidently thinks I can handle this so why not take it in stride? I call the vet and make an appointment for Oli first thing Tuesday morning.
Tuesday morning after depositing the girls both in their respective spots at school, Oli and I take a trip to the vet's office. The vet confirms that yes he has tapeworms. No it's not a big deal. I'm aghast because our house does not have fleas. Period. We use the hell out of Frontline and I don't even attempt to go cheap on that aspect. I will cut into our grocery budget to make buying Frontline a priority. After preaching this to the vet he quickly assures me that he more than likely has had tapeworms all along and is just now exhibiting symptoms. He will give Oli one pill and that will take care of it. Would I like him to administer said pill? Really? Does a bear shit in the woods? Of course I want him to do it. He's the vet, the animal lover. He can definitely have this pleasure. I've been pumping this little kitty full of oral medication twice a day for the last month. Trust me, it's been no picnic and his teeth seem to be getting sharper and he refuses to swallow which means I end up wearing more of this medicine than I care to.
$80.13 later we leave the vet and go home. We are maybe in the house for a whole two minutes when I hear a noise near the front door. Oli has managed to barf up his entire breakfast. I glare at the little shit and he glares back. It dawns on me that he's probably barfed up the pill as well. I call the vet's office to inform them of our situation.
Vet: Do you see the pill?
Me: Uhhhhhh.....hold on.
And this is where it gets ugly. I had to sift through the Fancy Feast. And sure enough, there's the damn pill pretty much intact.
Me: Yes, the pill has come back up.
Vet: You're going to have to try to get him to swallow it. Again.
Vet: Call us back if you can't get it down and we can get you another pill.
After wrestling that little shit to the ground, I manage to cram it down his throat. Three minutes later, I hear another noise. Yes. Again. And yes, the pill is there. Again. Only now it's a fraction of the original form. Obviously, he can't tolerate this pill. After calling the vet again, it's decided that a topical medication is probably the best route for Oli. Can I please bring him back by? Oh sure, no problem.